Tangled Hearts
by Eurgh
Summary: ... Remy LeBeau raised an eyebrow at her. Just a few years ago, the girl known only as Rogue wouldn't speak a word to him. And now they were sneaking away to hotel rooms to play strip poker... A series of Romy One-shots. Number 17 up!
1. Green

**One-shot, ROMY. It's not exactly like the other stories out there... Hope you enjoy! I actually put in accents for once!**

* * *

She was always beautiful to him, always stunning and gorgeous and perfect. Even under the makeup (which, he knew, wasn't as much as she liked people to believe; she needed no foundation to pale her face, needed hardly any eye shadow or liner to darken her pale skin, didn't bother with mascara), she was a wild beauty.

She has only grown more beautiful over the past year and a half he hasn't seen her.

"Rogue!" He waves at her and she hurries up with her bag to say hello. "Y' came!"

"How could Ah not, sugah?" She laughs heartily. Her skin, tanned now from her time in Mississippi, is radiant and bronze in the New Orleans sun. Her hair has grown out, and she has stopped straightening it. The wild curls stop just below her shoulder blades. She never dyed the white streak brunette; it is prominent and frames her face. Her emerald eyes are the same as always, shining and beautiful. She is wearing a green tank top and a pair of denim shorts.

"Y' changed!" He smiles. "T'ought y'd never ditch de Goth makeup, _hahn_?"

"Thought ya'd never settle down, but ya proved me wrong jus' as much." Though she is smiling and warm, he can barely hear the underlying accusation.

"T'ings 'ave changed." He shrugs, trying to ignore the pang in his stomach.

"Ah suppose." She tosses her duffel bag at him.

"Seems like y' got what y' were lookin' f'r out dere." He gestures lightly to her bare, tanned arms and legs. She laughs happily, twirling around.

"Ah love bein' able to wear normal clothes again, sugah!" She smiles brightly. "The feel of the sun on my skin, cold water from a swim! A Southern gal like myself should never have to wear clothes like that, Ah'm tellin' ya."

"Remy coulda told y' dat plenty o' times." He agrees with an appreciative whistle. She laughs and slaps his arm. It feels… almost the way it once did, before all this, before she left, before he agreed to the damn-

"Are ya listenin' to a word that is comin' out of my mouth, Swamp Rat?" She glares at him, hand on her cocked hip. He can't help a small chuckle; it is her signature position, angry and sarcastic. "What's so funny?"

"Y', River Rat. Y're de funnies' damn t'ing in de world!" He laughs at her, laughs with joy at seeing her, laughs with a tinge of sadness because she is not his.

"Fightin' words, Rem! What was it?" She clutches her heart dramatically, reminding him of himself. "Ya wound me, Swamp Rat! Wound me!"

"Remy'll show y' wounds." He laughs.

"Ah like my part better." She says with a frown. "Trade back."

"_Non_, can't do dat. Sorry."

"Tough shit." She laughs. "This makes me think of Mardi Gras. And your damn guilds."

"_Moi aussi_." He says softly, and her eyes meet his for a split moment. Immediately, as if it never happened, they return to the conversation. "Damn guilds involved in dis too."

"'Cause of Bella." She nods.

"How'd-" He stops when she taps her head gently, a sweet smile on her lips.

"Now, can Ah meet the bride to be?"

"'Course, Roguey." He reaches over to ruffle her hair. She stops him with a surprisingly strong grip and grins. "Bella! Come out 'ere, _petite_, got someone Remy wants y' t' meet!"

A pretty blonde flounces out from the mansion. Her hair, slightly wavy, shines golden in the sun. She is tanned as well, muscular, gorgeous.

"_Oui_, _mon cher_?" She asks with a smile, and an unhappy look at Rogue.

"Dis is Rogue- 'nother mutant. Rogue, dis is Bella, Remy's fiancé."

"Pleased ta meet ya." Rogue sticks out her hand, with Bella grips gingerly.

"_Oui_." She nods, though doesn't seem to share the sentiment. "Will y' be attendin' de wedding, Rogue?"

"Well, Ah got the invite." She laughs again. "So, Ah think so."

"I'll see y' dere, den. I got t' get back t' putting de finishin' touches on de rehearsal dinner, so I'll be seein' y' later." She plants a quick but firm kiss on Remy's lips, as if to remind Rogue that the Cajun is very taken.

"She's friendly." Rogue laughs as the blonde saunters back in. Remy grimaces, but can't help a small laugh.

"She don't mean any harm, _chere_." He smiles easily. "She can't help but be high-strung, _oui_?"

"Don't call me that." She isn't smiling.

"_Pourquoi_?" He is confused.

"Your gettin' married tomorrow, Rem." She forces a strained smile on her face. "Ah ain't your anythin' anymore. Not your dear especially."

"Not m' _amie_?" He asks softly.

"Ah can be your friend." She says softly, looking at the ground. They are interrupted by a loud _BAMPH_ and exclamations.

"_Mein schwester_!" She is pulled into a bear hug by her German brother, laughing. "I have not seen you in so long!"

"Six months, Kurt!" She laughs, pulling away.

"Six months." He sighs wistfully. "You got control! You said you vere getting close!"

"Yeah." She grins. "It's nice. Ah like it."

"And Gumbo here can't push you around! You can beat _him_ up now!" Kurt's eyes widened in excitement. "Can I vatch? Please?"

At Remy's questioning look, she flushes.

"Ah hadn't, uh, told him about that yet, Kurt." She mumbles.

"But zat vas months ago." His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Drop it, Kurt." She rolled her eyes, but the Cajun didn't miss the look of regret pass over her face. The blue boy laughed.

"Well, I need to get back to the ozers anyway. I'll tell zem you said hi." He smiles, ignoring the fact that she sends no such message.

"C'mon, Remy'll show y' t' y'r room f'r de stay." He leads the way gallantly. She laughs, and follows him through the large house. She has flashes of this house in her memory. She can almost lead herself, but makes no attempt to do so.

"Thanks."

"Y' know, Remy hasn't seen y' in a year an' a half." He points out in a would-be casual voice. "Why is it dat every _homme et femme_ in de mutant world gets t' see y', _mais _not Remy?"

"Ah'm at your wedding. Isn't that enough?"

He is silent.

"See y' later, _oui_?" He looks away from her as he opens her door. "Got t' help Bella plan de rehearsal dinner.

Green eyes watch him go, flooded with unshed tears, hurt and angry. They watch as he turns the corner, trench coat billowing behind him in his angry stride.

………………………………….

"_Qu'est-ce tu fais_?"

"Ah don't speak French as well as Ah used to." Her voice is tired. He walks up behind her.

"Asked what y' were doin'." He tries to smile. "'Course, Remy knows. Y'r lookin' for a midnight snack."

"Never outgrew that habit." She says softly.

"Sometimes, t'ings shouldn' change, y' know." He replies. "Gumbo alright wit' y'?"

"Yeah." She hops up to sit on the counter beside him as he heats up a bowl for her. They are silent, each silently recalling times in the Institute when both Southerners would spend two hours in the kitchen cooking a snack. Teasing and laughter had woken the others at times; so different from this overbearing silence.

Memories take up the stale, empty air of the kitchen. Memories of laughter, of secrets, of flirting and teasing and happiness, a stolen kiss, a frightened girl and a love struck boy, memories, memories-

"Here y' go." He places the bowl in front of her, and she begins to eat.

"Damn. Your aunt is a good cook." She nods appreciatively.

"Y' already knew dat." He says softly. "Memories, _oui_?"

"Ah… Yeah." She looks at her food. "So, when did ya finally give in? Agree to marry Bella?"

"Eh, not t' much o' a hardship. Go way back, her and Remy." He grins helplessly. "Not de worst match in de world."

"Ah guess." She finishes eating in silence, leaving to put her bowl in the sink. He is staring at her, a quirky little grin on his face. "What?"

"Y' have…" He smiles. "Let Remy, _d'accord_?"

He gently wipes the gumbo on her lip away with his thumb; but his hand stays, cradling her face. She is still, green eyes wide as she stares into his red-on-black. Without a word, their heads move closer together. His lisp meet hers, a gentle soft kiss. The sort of kiss he always imagined to have with her, before she could touch him, the sort of kiss he never got.

Until now.

He tastes of spices and tobacco. She had pictured his taste to be the same as his scent; she was right. Somewhere along the way, somewhere between the bowl of gumbo and being pushed against the wall as the kiss deepens, she remembers Belladonna.

"Stop it, Rem!" She pushes him away.

"What?" He breathes out, confused momentarily.

"You're gettin' married tomorrow!" She growls, eyes flashing in anger. "Ya can't just kiss me, can't just call your dear! You're engaged. She's sleepin' upstairs!"

"It was an arranged marriage!" He bursts, gripping her hand. "I never wanted de damn t'ing, Rogue!"

"Ah know. But here ya are, 'bout to get married!" She looks close to tears.

"What did y' 'spect me t' do, Rogue?" He demands. "Wait f'r y'? Pine an' pine, an' know dere was no way t' make y' come back t' me?"

"Ya knew a way outta this!" She accuses him. "Ah know ya did! But you're marryin' her, ya hold her hand and kiss her, ya act like ya love her!"

"How else could I make y' come back?" He feels that familiar pang again; his heart tugging to be free, his heart tugging and yearning to be with her. "Y' didn' have t' leave, damn it! _Pourquoi_? Why would y' jus' leave like dat, no explanation?"

"They had a chance to cure my powers!" She shrieks. "They did, if ya can't tell!"

"So did Hank, an' y' know it!" He shouts at her. "Y' didn' have t' leave, Rogue! But y' did! Y' left, y' left y'r _famille_, y' left y'r friends, y' left me!"

"You're such a damn hypocrite!" She shouts back at him. "Ya didn't have to go off and agree to the fucking marriage, did ya? Ya could've gotten out of it, and ya didn't! You're the one getting married, damn it!"

"Y' left!" He can't seem to get past that fact. "_Merde_… I would… Would have done any damn t'ing y' wanted. I wanted t' wait fo' y', wanted t' be wit' y'! And y'… y' just left! Why would y' do dat to me?"

"Ah loved ya!" She doesn't remember if she's shouting because she's filled with rage or because she is hurt and broken. "Ah loved ya so much, and… What coulda come outta it, Rem? Nothin', nothin'! Ah couldn't touch ya! Not that ya noticed! Ah had to… Ah had to leave."

"_J'ai adore toi_!" He rages at her. "I always loved y'! And y' ran 'way! Why? 'Cause o' a damn kiss in de kitchen? 'Cause y' realized I loved y'? What de hell was it, Rogue?"

She just stares at him, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. She doesn't know how to tell him what it was; everything. She loved him, it scared her, she ran and ran and ran to be free, and love wouldn't leave her alone. She ignored him for a year and a half, desperate to be free, desperate to be as invincible as her skin, desperate to free herself from the possibility of hurt. And she knew the hurt would come; that damnable kiss in the kitchen ruined everything, just like this one-

"Y'… Y' okay?" His voice is softer now, his hand delicate as he takes her arm and leads her to a chair. "I didn' mean t' yell… Or… Kiss y'."

"Ah… Shouldn't have done that." She doesn't know what she's talking about; leaving him or shouting at him.

This time, when he kisses her, it is short and sweet and he pulls away.

"I'll miss y', Rogue."

"Marie." She says, almost inaudibly.

"Hmm?"

"Marie. My name is Marie."

--------------------------

"_Mon cher_, we're gettin' married t'day!" Bella kisses his lips, softly. He is less enthusiastic. "What? Y're not excited? Dis is y'r weddin' day, Remy."

"Remy knows. It was more excitin' de first eight times, _oui_?" He laughs. She joins him after a moment's hesitation. Everyone is, of course, so damn excited. And he? He wishes things were different somehow. They are sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and he can't focus on his fiancé at his side.

All he sees is an exhausted girl with green eyes.

"Remy, are y' listenin' t' _moi_?" She demands at his side.

"'Course Remy is." He grins. "Just keep gettin' sidetracked. 'S not ev'ry day _un homme_ gets married, _oui_?"

"We're gettin' married!" She laughs happily. "I've dreamed o' dis day since I was a li'l girl, since de day I met y'. An' den datin' y'… Dis is a dream come true, _oui_?"

Rogue's eyes flash in surprise and hurt, and he can feel them boring into him.

"_O-Oui._" He mumbles back.

"Excuse me." Rogue stands up. "Jet lag."

"Let me help y'." Remy stands up, but she simply looks at him with an unreadable expression.

"Ah think your fiancé would like to be with ya on your weddin' day." She says icily. "Ah'll be fine, just need a nap."

With that, her whirlwind of Southern beauty and anger spins out of the room. Bella looks at her leave with a strange face, and turns to her betrothed.

"Y' said "me". Y' never…" She looks at him, desperate for reassurance.

"Don' worry 'bout it, Bella." He kisses her forehead.

"_Oui_." The beautiful Cajun girl nods with a smile. "After all, I get de big prize. I'm de one y'r marryin'."

-------------------------------

"'S jus' de nerves, Remy, we all get dem when we get married. _D'accord_?" Henri tries to reassure his obviously unhappy brother. The younger man is brooding, staring out the window at something no one else can see, thinking thoughts no one else can hear.

"_Oui_." He agrees softly. "Jus' de nerves."

Nerves must be beautiful, then, to be the thing that bothers him now. They must have wild, curled hair with white streaks. They must have shining green eyes, dark full lips, tanned skin that practically glows in the sun it was obviously meant to bask in. They must speak in a soft Mississppi drawl, must be fiery and easily hurt, frightened of betrayal.

"Y' should be happy." Henri sits next to him. "Belladonna's a damn pretty thing."

"_Oui, mais je préfère brunettes_." He says softly.

"What?" Henri stares at him.

"_Rien_. Not'in' at all." The man's red-on-black eyes flash and he stands. "Suppose it's 'bout time for dis Cajun t' get married, den, ain't it?"

"_Oui_." Henri nods. "Y'll be fine, Remy."

Minutes later, as the priest drones on, he is stiff and the nerves continue to bother him. Those damned nerves, just out of reach, smelling of the outside, tasting like spice and the river-

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

He hopes she will speak, will stop this from continuing.

No shouted objection, no soft and desperate Southern drawl to interrupt the ceremony.

He feels a crushing dread crawling over him. In minutes, simple minutes, he will be married. Trapped for life in a never-ending relationship that he never wanted to begin with. Bella, shining in happiness, hidden beneath a white veil, sickens him. The desperate sense to run, to make a mad dash for freedom, is very overwhelming. He almost acts on it.

"-take Belladonna Bordreaux to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

He can't speak.

"Remy!" A hissed whisper from beneath the veil.

"Remy does." He finally mumbles. As the priest speaks to Bella, his eyes watch the ground. In mere moments, after a sung "I do" from damn Belladonna, he will be married.

Married…

"You may now kiss the bride."

He turns to her, his hidden wife, and as he reaches back to pull away her veil, he half expects shining emerald eyes to meet him. He hopes for wild curled hair tumbling down her back, white bangs framing a smiling face.

The shining blue eyes of Belladonna tear his heart to pieces as he bends to gently touch his lips to hers. Cheers raise from all sides of the church, and they walk out to the damn reception.

Congratulations.

Congratu-fucking-lations.

He is married to a poisonous plant, to a blonde beauty that he doesn't want, to a damn Cajun when all he wants is the Mississippi. People come and go, faceless and blurred figures drifting in and out of sight, congratulating him, commenting on the beautiful ceremony.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau." A soft Mississippi drawl catches his ear. He turns, with damn Bella on his arm, to look at her. She is gorgeous, in a green dress. She is easily more beautiful than Bella (something, he is sure, the Assassin has noticed), and obviously did not try to be so.

"_Merci beaucoup_!" Bella says warmly, now that they are married in the eyes of the lord, now that there is no way for Rogue to take him from under her nose, now that she is Mrs. Remy LeBeau.

"T'anks." Remy murmurs.

"Ah hope you have a wonderful life together." Only Remy can detect the angry pain lurking beneath the surface, the love and longing he himself feels, her true meanings a blur of sadness and love and longing and betrayal.

"I t'ink we will. Don' y', _mon cher_?" Bella looks at her husband.

"_Oui_." Remy says softly. "Rogue… I hope y'll keep in touch dis time."

"Ah'll try." She replies. Which lets him know the truth. She will not. It will be too painful for her, too impossible for her to speak to him and not be with him. She is not a mistress; she will not be the other woman. He wouldn't wish that on her anyway. She deserves to be the first, the best, the most loved and important.

"T'ank y'. F'r comin'. Even t'ough y' never did show me how de hell y' planned on beatin' me in a fight." He is teasing now, light, trying to keep away from the sadness and pain just under the surface.

"Ya couldn' handle it anyway." She looks at Bella once more. "Good luck, Rem."

With that, she walks away.

Out of his life.

Leaving him to a woman he doesn't love, to a life he never wanted.

He doubts he will see her again.

He doubts he can learn to love Belladonna.

He doubts the bayou will ever be as beautiful or as perfect as the shining Mississippi.

He's always liked green better than blue anyway.


	2. Mardi Gras

**This was intended to be just a one-shot, but I think it's becoming a series of different ROMY one-shots. None of them are connected, just so ya know. This is lots of fluff. Basic plot: Remy kidnaps Rogue again, just in time for Mardi Gras...**

* * *

**Mardi Gras**

Mardi Gras swirled around her, singing, laughter, insane masks, drinking, slurred words, the bare chest of some woman attempting to earn herself some beads, happiness, the warm and comforting smell of jambalaya floating over the bayou.

"Alright, Cajun, ya had one good idea." She admitted begrudgingly, her green eyes alight with delight. It was such a _normal_ activity, Mardi Gras. 

"All de ideas in dis Cajun's head be good, _chere_." He took a lazy drag from his cigarette. "We shoulda dressed up, _oui_?"

"Woulda been fun." She admitted wistfully. "It's a li'l hard to dress up when ya didn' know ya were comin' down for the parade though."

"_Tiens_, I t'ought y' weren' all dat mad 'bout dis kidnappin' t'ing!" He grinned at her. "_Ce n'est pas vrai_?"

"_Si, c'est vrai_." She rolled her eyes at him, reaching up to tuck a white strand of hair behind her ear. "But ya don't have to be so damn cocky 'bout it."

"I t'ink 'm in love!" He swooned with a laugh. "Where did a Mississippi _femme_ like y'rself learn t' speak French?"

"Ah picked it up." She grinned secretively. 

"Y'r no good for dis Cajun." He shook his head solemnly. "'Specially if y' keep smilin' like dat. Den I'll be head ov'r heels, and y'll jus' laugh an' laugh an' laugh at _moi_."

"So, no hidden agenda this time?" She raised an eyebrow. "No secret plan to use me or anythin' like that? Did ya really jus' kidnap me ta have some fun at Mardi Gras?"

"Dis time, 's all 'bout havin' fun an' enjoyin' Mardi Gras." He held up his right hand, as if somehow that made the oath more solemn. "'Sides, fo' two Southerners trapped up north, we don' spend 'nough time t'gether."

"Well, ya work for Magneto an' Ah'm an X-Man. Not exactly prime "friend material", ya know?" She laughed. The candle at their table reflected off her pale skin, the flame bobbing and dancing with the wind. The noises of Mardi Gras surrounded them; it was incredibly loud and she found she rather liked it.

She had always loved New Orleans.

"Eh, dat don' have t' mean anyt'ing." He waved off her words. "C'mon, Rogue, dis be N'Awlins. Don' y' t'ink we can be friends here?"

"Well, considerin' ya kidnapped me…" She trailed off, laughing at the expression on his face. "Ah am the only girl in the world stupid enough to befriend her kidnapper, aren't Ah?"

"Stupid ain't quite de word." He grinned. "An' see how good 'm bein'? Not usin' my powers even a lil. De X-Men ain't gon' take dis night away from us."

"Rescuin' me ain't necessarily what they'd consider takin' the fun away." She mused. "But thanks all the same."

"'Course, _chere_." He grinned. "De boss is gon' kill me f'r dis. Y'r X-Men are gon' blame 'im, an' he'll take it out on poor lil _moi_." 

"Can't ya picture it?" She sniggered. "They'll attack your base, and everyone'll be fightin' 'cause of us."

"An' we'll be here, enjoyin' bourbon an' jambalaya!" He laughed enthusiastically. "Dat's a pretty picture y' paint, _chere_. Dem, fightin' like dey will, an' us jus' enjoyin' de South. I t'ink it should be dat way more often."

"Southern Sours are more mah thing." She grinned cheekily. "But Ah'll take what Ah can get, Ah suppose."

"_Chere_! As if dis Cajun would _dare_ corrupt y'r morals an' let y' drink alcohol! 'Specially since y've been so kind as t' not kick my ass so far!" He gasped in mock shock. "'M surprised at y' Rogue. Last time I checked, y' were underage."

"Last time Ah checked, so were ya." She rolled her eyes.

"Only by a few months. Y'r only eighteen." He shook his head disapprovingly. "An' I do believe y'r X-Men ain't gon' 'prove of me lettin' y' drink."

"Ah do believe they ain't here an' don' have to find out." She winked at him.

"What a convincin' argument!" He laughed as he stood to order her a drink. She grinned, watching him leave.

This was what it felt like to be at home; the spicy smells of fried foods wafting through the air, the sound of laughter and off-key, drunk singing, the warm and humid Louisana air ruining the careful straightening of her hair, the soft buzz of a mosquito around her ankles. She loved the institute; she loved her family there. But the cold wind couldn't compare with the stale, warm air of the South. The expensive, dry, healthy food up there was nothing to spicy jambalaya, fried chicken, greasy cornbread. 

"_Chere_, I don' t'ink I've seen y' look dis happy." He said cheerfully as he set her drink in front of her. "'Bout time y' smiled like dat."

"Ah guess… Louisana's a lot like Mississippi." She grinned ruefully. "Ah've missed the South, Remy."

"An' now y' know my name?" He laughed. "'M touched, Roguey, absolutely touched. Now if only y' could return de favor…"

"Not on your life, Swamp Rat." She laughed.

"Harsh words comin' from de River Rat herself."

"Truth hurts, Sugah." She laughed as she nursed the drink. 

"Y'r right." He drawled, giving her a grin that she decided simply wasn't legal. It was too damn charming. "'M wounded. Would y' kiss it an' make it better?"

"Ya wanna spend Mardi Gras in a coma?" She raised a delicate eyebrow.

"I ain't afraid o' y', like dem." He commented softly, watching her eyes. "Y'r powers don' scare me. Y' can glare an' shout at me all y' want an' y' won' scare me."

"Well, ain't that fantastic?" She grinned, somehow touched by the words anyway.

"Sure is." He replied with a smile of his own. He reached over to play with a strand of her hair. She stared at him; he was his own brand of crazy. No one got close to her once they knew, for their own good, for their own safety. "See, de way I see it, y' don' have t' many people tryin' t' reach out t' y', let y' know y' ain't some monster." He paused, his red-on-black eyes meeting her own. "Y're not."

"What… What happened to that annoyin' third person thing ya used to do?" She brushed away his comments. "Used to annoy the hell outta me."

"Y' bring it out in _moi_, _chere_." He sighed ruefully. "T'ink y're de only girl t' manage dat. Even Bella couldn'."

"Bella… Julien's sister?" She laughed. "The one ya left at the altar?"

"Can y' blame dis poor Cajun?" He stared at her incredulously. "Julien was tryin' t' kill _moi_! 'S not somet'in' y' exactly stick 'round f'r, is it?"

"Ah guess not." She took a sip of her drink. "What makes ya think the X-Men or Acolytes ain't gonna find us down here?"

"Even Xavier can't pick t'rough dis many minds." He gestured to the massive crowd moving around them. "Does it worry y' t' be alone wit' a t'ieve like _moi_?"

"Yeah." She laughed. "Worries me for ya! Face it, Swamp Rat, Ah could take you down before ya even pulled that little toy outta your pocket."

"Says who?" He murmured softly, so softly she had to strain to hear him over the loud noises around them. With an impish grin, she slipped off her glove and had her bare hand centimeters away from his face as he was reaching to surprise her with his bo stick. 

"Don't underestimate me." She laughed.

"Never, _chere_." He agreed, eyeing her hand casually as if it were nothing to worry about. "But y' got t' 'member dat I got a few trick o' my own."

"Like what?" She drawled. He merely shook his head, and let his eyes wander to the parade. She watched too; the dancing street performers, drunk party goers, singing and laughing costumed creatures on floats. It was a refreshing scene, something she had always wanted to see (on better terms than her first kidnapping).

"Ya know, you're a lousy kidnapper." She sighed.

"What?" He cried in mock outrage. "Dat ain't true, _chere_."

"Is so." She replied childishly. "Ya let me free. Ah could run off an' report ya for takin' advantage of my childlike innocence."

"Dere ain't not'in' remotely innocent o' childlike 'bout y'." He rolled his eyes. "An', 'M de best kidnapper in de world."

"How do ya figure that, Swamp Rat?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Y' stay wit' me an' I don' even have t' restrain y'. Y'r happy, an' havin' fun, an' don' wanna run off. So, really, 'M a miracle worker. I made de kidnapped conspire wit' her kidnapper!" He pulled out another cigarette and lit it with a lighter. She almost teased him for bothering when his powers would have sufficed, but she remembered his attempt to keep the X-Men from bursting in on them and kept quiet.

"Ya know, we don't have the normal relationship between victim and kidnapper, do we?" She laughed a little, loosened slightly by the alcohol, the warm humid air, the lurid smells of spices floating in the air, the drunken singing, the amazing feeling of belonging. "In fact… Ah would almost call us friends."

"Almost?" He raised an eyebrow. "We're friends, _chere_, even t'ough 'M de enemy an' y're an X-Man. Y' don' seem all dat clean cut anyway. Why y' wit' de X-Men?"

"Ah don't wanna talk about this stuff." She looked at the beads of water sweating from her glass. "It… Ah dunno. Makes me feel like we're tradin' information, ya know? For our respective teams. Ah don't wanna let them be a part o' this."

"'M touched." He grinned, and then took on a more serious tone. "I don' want information f'r Bucket Head or de Acolytes. I jus' wanna know 'bout y', Rogue. Dat so hard to accept?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Ah didn' approve of Mystique lyin' to me an' scarin' me to make me join her team. 'Course, it's worse knowin' she's my mama…" She looked at him. "But Ah'm not like her. Ah joined a cause Ah believed in, an' Ah'm stickin' with it."

"Y' shouldn' worry 'bout her." He took a drag of his cigarette, the glowing red cherry of its tip shining brighter for just a moment. She watched the smoke gently float up from his mouth. 

"Ah know." She agreed softly. 

"C'mon, y'r gon' ruin a fun night wit' bein' sad like dat." He frowned. 

"Fine." She smiled a little as she looked at her now-empty cup. "Let's go join the parade!"

"_Chere_, dat's jus' de alcohol talkin'. Y' slightly buzzed." He laughed. "Tell y' what, we won' join dat madhouse out dere. _Nous allons danser, oui_? Dat good 'nough for y'?"

"Danse?" She said dubiously, but stood with him anyway. "Be careful."

"_Pourquoi_?" He breathed in her ear as he drew her close to him, shifting slowly to the upbeat music. She nearly laughed at this; slow dancing in the middle of a Mardi Gras celebration. Somehow, it fit perfectly. She spun with him under the moon, watching the sky and praying for the moment to last forever.

It felt like hours, holding her in his arms. Her eyes were bright and alive, watching the stars and moon as if they were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. He couldn't help but grin a little at the childish expression on her face, a look of innocence and wonder. 

She was different than other girls, than Bella, than the many one-night stands and whores. She was something untouched, something beautiful and pure and innocent. He hid a grin as he continued to watch his face. Love? No, not love. Obsession, wonder, curiosity, determination- all these things he could attribute to her. But love?

No.

Remy LeBeau did not fall in love.

When she looked at him, rather than the sky, he almost reconsidered his previous thought. Her lips, smeared free of purple lipstick, so red and inviting… 

He paused, having caught a glimpse of four very strangely dressed teenagers, even for Mardi Gras.

"_Merde_." He cursed under his breath as he gently pulled away from her. "Looks like we got company, _oui_?" Rogue looked over her shoulder to see Scott glancing over the crowd, with an irritated Kitty standing behind him as Kurt mocked him. Jean seemed to be scanning the area with her mind.

"Ya should be more creative. 'Course they remember ya took me here last time!" She rolled her eyes.

"Well, if y' wanna go back wit' dem, be my guest." He huffed.

"Are ya kidding?" She laughed. "They obviously don' _know_ we're here, they're just guessin'. Or else Logan an' Storm'd be with them."

"T'anks for de insight." He said sarcastically. "C'mon, if we gon' outrun y'r friends, it's gon' take a lil bit o' a headstart."

"Well, lead the way, oh brave Swamp Rat." She cooed dramatically. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her, he pulled her along through the crowd. As they jostled and pushed their way through the inebriated mass of people, Rogue decided it might be a nice idea to hop on a float moving away from the X-Men.

"Are y' crazy, _fille_?" Remy demanded as she dragged him up with her. The owner of the float was luckily drunk enough to welcome them with a hearty laugh and offer of bourbon (which, Remy decided, should not be refused for the sake of politeness). 

"Well, of course. Ah'd have to be, to put up with ya." She answered easily. Sighing, he leaned back for the ride.

"Dunno. Sometimes I t'ink it's de ot'er way around."


	3. Battles Or Lack Thereof

**Howdy and welcome to the third one-shot!  
Summary: Rogue and Remy meet up during a battle between the Acolytes and X-Men. Flirting and accusations ensue.**

**Battles (Or Lack Thereof)**

"Well, _chere_, dis be a challenge f'r us." The damn Cajun grinned at her as he tossed a deck of glowing cards her way. She rolled out of the way, shooting him a dark glare for the trick. She was already annoyed enough that she had been interrupted from doing her homework (a.k.a., blowing off said homework and reading a good book) to come stop them from doing whatever the hell it was that they found necessary to do.

"Don't ya know better than to try to hurt a girl?" She demanded as she lunged at him. He easily deflected her attack with a quickly drawn bo stick, and laughed a little.

"Y' ain't gon' get hurt by Remy." He jerked her closer to him, and breathed in her ear. "Y' should know dat by now, Roguey."

She kicked him- much hard than was necessary, in his opinion- and jerked back (much to his relief, as it had looked as though the blue fuzzy brother was going to attempt to come to her rescue). He grinned cheekily at her as she swiftly lashed out at him with her foot. She was hardly trying at all; it was all too obvious. He had seen her in action before, seen her fight near her hardest, and this? This little child's play? It was almost an insult to him.

Almost.

Rather than be insulted, he gripped her wrist and swung her back into an alley. For all appearances, they were in the grips of a real fight.

"Y' goin' easy on dis Cajun, Roguey?" He taunted her as she regained her bearings.

"Ya know Ah am." She smirked at him. "Ya couldn't take me tryin' to hurt ya, Rem."

"Y' sayin' Remy would be heartbroken by de girl he loves tryin' t' take 'im out?" He laughed.

"Nah." She shook her head. "Ah'm sayin' ya couldn't take it. Ya know, physically."

Immediately, he launched himself at her. She ducked down easily as his foot swung for her head, and let out a soft laugh. Apparently they were going to fight. As they weaved and ducked, each having memorized the other's fighting style, it seemed more like an intricate dance than a fight. Remy naturally had more skill and experience, but Rogue had the small advantage of his psyche in her head warning her of his every move.

"Did Ah hurt your feelings?" She taunted as she executed a beautiful kick to his head (not that she was at all cocky).

"_Non_." He grinned wickedly as he tackled her to the ground and pinned her arms to her sides with his legs. "Jus' don' worry 'bout Remy's feelings none. Y' should be more concerned wit' y'r pride."

She growled and tried to twist away. His eyes flickered in amusement.

"Y' ain't gon' get 'way from dis." He shrugged dismissively. "Admit defeat, Roguey."

"What are our teammates gonna think when they catch us in such a compromisin' position?" She laughed rather than dare admit defeat. "Why, they'll think you're attemptin' to take advantage of my innocence!"

"Y' ain't innocent." He scoffed. "Y're jus' a damn River Rat dat tricks people in t' t'inkin' y' are."

"River Rat?" She raised an eyebrow. "How many times have Ah asked ya not to call me that?"

"Never so nicely." He mused idly. She saw her chance; in a split second, she jerked her legs to wrap around his neck and flipped them over. Disentangling herself from him quickly, she smirked.

"Not so cocky now, are ya?"

"Dat wasn' nice." He frowned.

"Well, Ah'm not a nice person. Ah thought ya knew." She rolled her eyes as they began to fight again, unaware of the slowing of fighting outside their little alley. He kicked at her, which she easily ducked under, and grabbed her communicator. With a laugh, he charged it and tossed it in the air.

"What the hell, Cajun?" She snarled as it exploded.

"Didn' wanna share y'. If dey called, y'd run off." He grinned as he blocked a heavy punch.

"They would be callin' so we could stop fightin'!" She snapped, finally landing one of her many punches. He winced slightly (the girl was strong; Danger Room had that effect on people, he supposed) and offered her a cheery grin.

"Dey come find y' den."

"Ya are the most annoyin' person in the damn world!"

"But y' love _moi_." He grinned cheekily.

"And so damn cocky!" She snarled, tackling him to the ground. He shifted beneath her, and offered her a lazy grin.

"Well, _chere_, if dis be de way y' wanna spend de rest o' de battle, Remy don' have a problem wit' it." He smiled as she blushed.

"Givin' up?" She taunted.

"If Remy says _oui_, does dat mean dat y'll sit on him de rest o' the de battle?" He asked hopefully. She snorted in amusement, as if the very idea was absurd. "Oh, is dat why y' only date Remy in secret? Y' ashamed o' him?"

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes. "Ya ain't as good at trickin' me as ya think."

"Damn." He cursed with a laugh. "Y' see straight t'rough dis Cajun, _ma femme_."

"Don't push your luck." She grinned cockily at him. "Last Ah noticed, ya were the one pinned."

"And Remy don' have a problem wit' dat, if y' didn' notice." He gave her a lopsided smirk as he freed his hands. As she twisted to avoid a blow that wouldn't come, he grabbed her uniform and tugged her to meet his lips.

"What de hell, Cajun?" She snarled as she jerked away.

"Wort' it." He murmured woozily.

"Y're a real piece o' work, y' know dat?" She snapped, still pinning him down. "How dare y' risk somet'in' like dat, _hahn_?"

"Remy likes t' hear y' talk wit' his accent." He mumbled.

"God damn it, Cajun, if y' pass out, I'm leavin' y'." She crossed her arms irritably.

"Y' know y' liked it."

"What?" She stifled a shriek.

"Y' like it when Remy kisses y'. Or does other such t'ings." He grinned suggestively, and she swatted his arm. "_Quois_?"

"Y' are…" She strangled the air, unable to come up with the words to explain exactly how infuriated he made her.

"Amazin'? De world's best kisser? _Beau_?" He suggested. "Don' worry, _chere_. Y're not de first t' fall for dis Cajun's charm."

"As I recall, I ain' fallin' f'r y'r charm." She crossed her arms.

"Sure y' are." He winked at her. "Y' jus' don' know it yet. _Mais tu adore moi. Je sais._"

"Speakin' French is kinda useless when I've got y' fresh in my mind." She rolled her eyes. "And y' don' know a damn t'ing."

"Y'r words are devastatin' to Remy's ego, _chere_." He paused. "Not dat Remy admits t' havin' one."

"Y' have a huge ego, Swamp Rat."

"_Et toi_, River Rat?"

"Me?" She raised an eyebrow. "Who says I have an ego?"

"Remy." She snorted and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an angry smirk in place as she leaned down to close the space between them. He wasn't quite sure if she was going to kiss him or throttle him, so perhaps he was lucky when a loud BAMPH interrupted them.

"Rogue, we have to-" The blue mutant stopped and stared at them in their compromising position. Both Southerners stared at him, unable to move. It was, as Remy liked to think, like they were two deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming jeep. "Uh… Rogue?"

"Uh…" She stared blankly at him. "Help! De Cajun's tryin' t' rape me!"

"_Chere_!" Remy admonished her. "Don' be tellin' lies! Y're de one on top."

"He made me!" Rogue insisted, sitting up to point at the man still pinned beneath her legs. "De bastard's _fou_!"

"_Non_, dat's y'." He rolled his eyes. "Shoo, Nightcreeper. _Nous sommes occupes._"

Kurt looked utterly confused. This was extremely awkward. He almost felt as if he were in the midst of a lover's fake quarrel, despite the fact that he was almost positive his sister hadn't seen the Cajun menace since the New Orleans incident. This was only added by Rogue's comfortable position atop Gambit and her newfound accent. He could have sworn his eye twitched for a moment.

His sister should never be straddling filthy manwhores.

"I should have sent Kitty to find you." He mumbled. "Why are you on top of Gambit?"

"I told y'! He's tryin' t' rape _moi_, an' he's forcin' me t' sit on top wit' his empathy!" Rogue swatted away Gambit's gloved hands as he tried to cover her mouth. Chances were that her naïve brother might actually believe her and go get Logan.

"Uh-huh." Kurt looked confused. "But… Your powers…"

"He's dumb." Rogue rolled her eyes. "Like he'd remember, _oui_?"

"_Tiens_!" Remy gave her a little push. "Don' insult dis Cajun's intelligence! Remy t'ought we had an understandin'!"

"Shut y'r mouth!" She snapped.

"Dat was mean." He frowned. "Remy t'inks he doesn' like dis position anymore."

"Y're jus' pissed 'cause I don' put up wit' y' like de ot'ers." She pointed out. He shrugged nonchalantly (to the best of his ability; this is obviously a difficult feat to accomplish on the ground), and grinned.

"Rogue! Do you not realize that you are flirting with Acolyte scum?" Kurt interrupted incredulously. "Maybe he does have you under his charm or whatever. I can't imagine that this is seriously happening."

"Believe y'r eyes, blue boy." Remy snickered.

"I told y', rape!" Rogue declared.

"_Ja_…" Kurt frowned. "I'm just going to leave. I don't want to know anymore."

"Look what y' did, Cajun!" Rogue's voice carried with him as he disappeared in a cloud of smoke and sulfur, as did the Acolyte's irritating chuckle.

* * *


	4. Love Amour

**This is not very sappy or happy for that matter. Enjoy the fourth one-shot!  
Summary: Drowning your sorrows in bourbon and cigarettes is probably not the best of ideas for Remy LeBeau. He doesn't care. (Warning: Plenty of cursing abounds. Hope you don't mind.)**

* * *

**Love. Amour. **

It smells like bourbon.

The whole damn room is filled with the overpowering scent of bourbon and cigarette smoke. Bottles litter the floor, dozens of little stubs lay lifelessly in the ashtray.

It isn't enough.

He can still smell lilies and lavender, the Missippi River, the vanilla raspberry lotion she always used. He can still feel her in the room, as if somehow she has stayed behind.

Stayed behind?

Why would she stay behind? For him? When he has lied to her, broken her, manipulated her in the worst ways, all in the name of love?

Love. _Amour. _I love you. _Je t'aime. Je t'adore. _

Words, words, useless words, words that shattered her already fragile heart, words that hang heavy in the air because he can't fucking take them back, words like "love" and "lie" and "how could you do this" and "I'm sorry", words without any meaning, words that can create, words that have destroyed.

He stabs out his umpteenth cigarette of the short day with unnecessary violence.

He didn't mean it. Didn't mean to say those things, didn't mean to admit to things in his past he meant to confront her with gently, didn't mean anything he ever fucking said.

Except that he loved her.

He loves her with his whole heart, his whole soul, every fiber of his being. He would kill for her, he would die for her, he would do anything to make her happy.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't make the truths be false. He couldn't take back the lies.

And she wasn't going to let herself be manipulated again.

He understands.

But it hurts.

He hasn't left his room since the night of their fight, the night she found out every single fucking thing and lost it- not in anger, not in rage, because those can be repaired, but in tears, in sadness, in pain- and he had to go on an alcohol and cigarettes run.

He's almost out.

He lights up again, the little tip of the tobacco product bursting into flame with touch of his finger. He jerks his next to last bottle of bourbon from the closet, pours himself a large cup, and sits down to continue wallowing in self-pity.

No one comes by to check on him. Storm did, at first. By now she has realized she will not be able to stop him from attempting to drink himself to a stupor, poison his lungs as quickly as possible.

From what she said, the beautiful Southern belle has taken off to Caldecott for a few weeks to stay with her foster mother. Apparently, this final betrayal- mixed with her mother's involvement in some plot involving Dr. Sinister and the X-Men- made her decide she was so fucking done with New York for awhile and take off.

So fucking done.

With him? With them, and their relationship? Is this like the others, a little break, something they can work through? Something they _must_ work through, because he can't live without her, because Fate has meant for them to be together all along? Or is she truly done? So fucking done, as she had sobbed that night. So fucking done with being hurt and screwed over and used. So fucking done with trying to learn to trust and opening herself up little by little and exposing those little unhealed wounds to the world to just be stabbed in the back again.

By him.

He promised. Promised he would try his hardest to be honest with her, promised to never hurt her in the way her mother did, in the way so many people have.

He never was very good at keeping those stupid promises.

Bella. The blonde skank, the little unwanted tart in New Orleans, the beginning of this whole mess. Goddamn Belladonna Boudreaux, and her pretty blue eyes, and her cruel demeanor.

Jean-Luc wrote to inform him that the poisonous girl wanted to marry him, even after leaving her at the altar. Wrote that he had to return, wrote that the Guilds needed this, damn it, and couldn't Remy just be a little less selfish for once in his life? Couldn't his son just put someone else ahead of himself for once, didn't he see what Jean-Luc had sacrificed taking him in?

Nothing. Not a single fucking thing was sacrificed.

But Remy doesn't say it aloud.

Bella. Thinking of Bella reminds him of Genevieve.

That little thought hadn't helped him much.

He's done it before, she pointed out in her heartbreak, used a girl to get something he wanted. Did he only want her for the challenge? Why did he lie to her, why was he fucking engaged and still dating her, why had he lied to the beautiful blonde of Paris?

He couldn't answer. Because some of it was true. He _was_ engaged, he should have told her, it was a lie (which was worse to her than anything- she had accepted him as a thief, hadn't she?).

God, he can't think about this.

He misses her.

He knows she misses him, no matter how she will deny it. He knows she will cry at night, when she thinks no one can hear, and ask what it is about her that makes people decide she's a great fucking candidate for manipulation. He knows he will be the reason for her tears, for her heartbreak.

She would take him back, probably, if he came clean.

Does he want that?

Does he want the chance to cause her pain again, however inadvertently? Is he truly a selfish pig, as Jean-Luc so lovingly points out? He cannot live without her, cannot be happy without her love, cannot breathe without her by his side. Does that mean she should be punished, should be put through betrayal after betrayal, because of him?

He is the first man she has ever loved, as he knows.

As much as he wants to be the last, as much as he wants them to never truly break apart, is that fair to her?

He doesn't know.

He takes a drag of his cigarette after emptying the cup of its bourbon.

Love shouldn't be this damn complicated.

When he closes his eyes, he sees little flashes. A pretty girl with auburn hair and white bangs creeping around a warehouse, wary, nervous, prey. Laughing purple lips, parted in a rare smile, emerald eyes nearly tearing up. Screams, accusations, sobs and sobs and sobs, pain.

Pain, pain, pain, on both ends.

Damn the pretty blondes, damn her powers, damn himself for lying to her!

He never liked blondes anyway. They are fun for a quick fuck, they are wonderful for little kisses and money, they are fantastic for lies and seduction. And he never realized it. No, he kept from little brunette girls with streaks of white. How could he know?

He's drunk, out of his mind, slurring even the words of his thoughts, the room spins and spins and spins and he almost wishes he would pass out, because maybe then he will wake up and she will be there, smiling and laughing, unknowing, and he will confess it all, and she will appreciate his honesty and kiss him through the sheet, and gently tell him she loves him.

That won't happen.

So fucking done.

She is so fucking done, with him, with being hurt.

The meaningless words echo in his mind, vibrate and dance out with honest clarity.

He stubs out the last of his cigarette, automatically reaching for another.

Smoke lazily drifts up toward the ceiling. He watches as it clouds his light. Does he care too much? If he sets off the alarm, if Logan finally confronts him about the smells of illegal substances coming from his room?

Why should he care about these things?

Little films of _her_ run through his mind, her words echoing like a soundtrack through his ears, repeating, repeating. _So fucking done. How could you do this? Did you ever love me, was it just a damn act? How can you hurt me this way? How could you lie to me about being fucking single, huh? How hard is it to say I'm engaged? How hard is it to say I'm only using you for the challenge, so don't actually fall in love with me? God, Remy, how can you just sit there? _

_Do you even care?_

_That you're hurting me? That I fucking told you everything, that I trusted you, that I really thought I could love you?_

_What else have you lied to me about, Remy?_

_So fucking done._

Of course he cares.

He doesn't want to hurt her the way he has.

He shouldn't have lied.

She's not like other girls, girls that can handle it, girls that can try to move on.

She doesn't want to be betrayed by anyone ever again, especially someone she loves.

Not after Risty, not after her mother and that damn Mesmero, not after he kidnapped her for selfish reasons.

Damn it.

He's fucked it all up, and he can't fix it.

_Damn it, Remy, you're not deaf! Tell me I'm wrong!_

She didn't want another lie.

So he couldn't say a word.

He takes another drag of his cigarette.

Words like "I'm sorry" are useless after you've hurt someone. Once you've seen tears blossoming in their eyes, watched them scream and curse, you realize they are hollow and mean nothing compared to the shame you feel. Mean nothing in comparison to the regret of having fucked up the _one_ good thing in your life, the one thing that made you try to change.

He can't blame her for overreacting.

He knows her so well.

Marie is a beautiful name. Cody and his family hated her after what she did to him at that dance. She used to be a nicer girl, a less rebellious girl, and then she was fucked over, and decided to just close herself off.

She pushed her mother off a cliff to try to protect her brother, whom then blamed her for it. She regretted it. She'll never admit it, but she almost let herself cry in the bayou. _You're doing the wrong thing, but for the right reason. That's better than me._

Damn it, he misses her.

Three days is too long without her.

How can he survive a lifetime, if it comes to that?

_So fucking done._

So is he. He is done with accidentally hurting her, done with letting others hurt her, done with seeing her shatter behind her façade.

Love is four letter word, a word that means next to nothing after you've fucked everything up. _Amour_ is a six letter word, and means about the same once she's shed tears because you lied to her. I love you is just a silly phrase. _Je t'aime, je t'adore_, nothing can make sense without her, where is she?

Caldecott.

Away from him and pain and betrayal and lies, lies, so many damn lies.

_Je regrette._ I'm sorry.

Words, meaningless, empty.

_So fucking done._

So is he.

God, Rogue, so is he.


	5. Change

**Hello faithful and wonderful readers! This is a very sweet, very short little affair. I hope you enjoy it.  
Summary: Love is a funny word.**

**Change**

Love is funny word. Four letters, four otherwise meaningless letters, carry the connotations of the single emotion to move mountains and lift souls. These four letters have started wars and created peace, ended lives and created them anew, created happiness and broken hearts. She had sworn not to fall victim to these silly little letters.

Sometimes, it's funny how things change.

By falling in love, she is risking _everything_. She is risking heartbreak and betrayal. She is risking trust and faith. She is risking her sanity, her ability to love. Somehow, when he takes her gloved hand in his own, these risks (and a thousand more) are completely worth it.

Theirs is a silent, secretive affair. The others notice something, sometimes. Kitty likes to tease Rogue for the flirting (which she will always deny). Kurt has restrained himself from threatening Remy not to hurt his sister more than once, simply because he doesn't know if they really are together or if they're best friends. Logan can tell, sometimes.

It's ridiculous sometimes.

"What are y' t'inkin'?" A soft Cajun voice mumbles in her ear.

"Why aren't ya outside with everyone?" She raises an eyebrow. "It's a nice day. Go swimmin', with everyone else."

"I can only swim in de swamp." He hops back onto her bed. "'Sides, I'd much rather be wit' _ma chere_."

She snorts as she returns to pretending to read her novel.

_Ma chere_. Once upon a time, she hated that little phrase. Once upon a time, he was a player and a flirt and couldn't picture being with the same girl for three days, let alone the six months they've pulled off. Once upon a time, she was a closed off, angry girl with enough trust issues to push anyone- particularly a deceitful Cajun thief- as far as away as possible.

It really is funny how things change.

She never knew what love felt like, before this. She didn't necessarily believe in love. It's funny, though. Now, when she sees him, it's as if nothing else can ever make her happier than she is at that moment. Even when they're fighting, even when she's annoyed or he's depressed, she would rather be with him than anywhere else on earth.

She sometimes wonders if it's the same for him.

"Come down from de windowsill, _chere_." He frowns. "I miss y'."

"Ya got legs, don't ya?" She raises an eyebrow. "Use 'em."

"_Oui_, I do." He stands up and casually makes his way over to her. Before she can blink, he has scooped her up and is carrying her gallantly to the bed.

"Remy LeBeau, ya better put me down!" She shrieks, pounding lightly on his back with her fists. She really doesn't mind being held like this, but she will never admit it. "Ya hear me?"

"'Course, _ma belle_." He drops her unceremoniously on the bed. "Y're jus' dat annoyin'. Can't block y' out."

"Hey!" She glares at him.

"Don' give _moi_ dat look." He sighed dramatically. "Y' know it wears down dis Cajun's defenses."

"Sure, Swamp Rat."

"Dat hurts."

"Ah'm sure it does, sugah."

"Sugar, _hahn_?" He grins. "I could get used t' dat nickname. I vote we keep it."

"Ah vote ya don' move me anymore." She stuck out her tongue.

"_Tiens!_ What's so bad 'bout spendin' time wit' _moi_, huh?" He puts on an exaggerated face of sadness.

"What _ain't_?" She drawls with a grin.

"Y' don' mean it." He waves dismissively as he leans against the headboard of the bed.

She doesn't say a word because he's right.

They lie in silence for awhile. His fingers run absent-mindedly through the ends of her hair, gently tugging free tangles. She loves this, love _him_ as pathetic as it is. The silence is easy, comfortable. Everything between them is; flirting banter, real fights, apologies, lighthearted teasing.

Sometimes, she wonders why people don't realize that they're in love. She would expect it to have brought some huge, earth-shattering change in her. She would think that anyone, seeing her, could say with confidence "that girl has met the one to break down her boundaries and make her whole again".

They may not be an "official couple" or dating or even openly exclusive.

But they are in love.

"What are y' t'inkin'?" He repeats his first question softly.

"Ah'm thinkin' that yer the most annoyin' Cajun Ah've ever met."

"I know y' better dan dat, _chere_." He rolls his eyes. "Y' can tell me anyt'in'. Y' know dat, right?"

"Yeah, Swamp Rat." She laughs.

"Den spit it out, River Rat."

"Ah'm just thinkin'."

"Don' leave _moi_ hangin', Rogue." He laughs.

"Ah love ya." She finally says, softly, barely above a whispers.

She has never said this to him. Never said this to anyone but Irene (and once, Kurt, in a joking sort of way). She is silent, awaiting his reply. He is silent, as if in shock, and for one frightening moment, she is terrified of rejection.

"_Je t'aime aussi._" He whispers huskily.

It is somehow perfect. That in the sunny afternoon, when everyone else it outside, that they should admit this.

He means so much to her.

"Does dis mean I can officially call y' _ma femme_?" He asks mischievously. "An' dat I get t' beat on de little boys dat try t' flirt wit' y'?"

"Ya can call it whatever ya want, Cajun, but no beatings in my name." She laughs.

They lie together in silence once more, his hand still twirling his hair between his fingers. She wonders at him. He gave up everything of his old self- lies, flirtations, one night stands, _sex_- for her. He is willing to sit in her room with her on a beautiful afternoon and make her feel special because she doesn't like to see everyone enjoying the sun without layers of clothes.

"What're y' t'inkin' now, _chere_?"

"This is perfect." She breathes out.

And, somehow, they both know she is right.


	6. Tears

**Hello. I hope you are enjoying these one-shots!  
Summary: Rogue receives a phonecall late at night.**

**Tears**

The room is dark.

What time is it?

She doesn't know.

She doesn't care all that much.

Fuck the Danger Room.

The alarm clock beeps. Wordlessly, she shuts it off.

Who gives a fuck?

Her roommate drowsily rouses from slumber.

"Rogue?" The perky voice is dulled by exhaustion.

She doesn't answer.

Maybe she'll just leave her alone that way.

A few minutes later, she hears Kitty padding out of her room.

The last time she actually looked at the clock was three A.M. When she answered that annoying little buzzing from the nightstand, to a hysterical voice.

When her world crashed down.

It had all been blubbering.

A somber voice with two little words ruined everything.

She doesn't want to think about that very much.

In an ideal world, she could lie motionless and thoughtless.

But what her limbs lack in motion, her mind makes up for it tenfold.

A hundredfold.

"Rogue, are you still in bed?"

She lets her friend believe she has already left.

Two words echo in her head, two accented words, two damn words.

_"Remy's dead."_

She had stuffed a fist in her mouth to keep from crying out on the balcony and waking her friend.

How? How how how?

Not that it mattered.

Not that anything really mattered anymore.

She sucks in air, trying to keep unshed tears from spilling.

It would have been easier if he were in the hospital, ill, dying. She would have immediately gone to him.

It would have been so easy.

Now, she can't say goodbye. She can't whisper three little words she never got to say. She can't kiss his gloved hand and cry silent tears at his side and assure him in a shaky voice that everything will be okay in the end.

She can't be there with him as he takes his last breath and moves on to the next world.

Whatever the fuck it is.

A soft whimper escapes her lips now as she thinks about it.

Remy LeBeau was invulnerable, indestructible.

Inde-fucking-structible.

BAMPH!

"Rogue, Logan says to get down to the Danger Room or he'll personally see to it that you don't leave this house for two weeks."

She doesn't care.

Where does she have to go now?

"Rogue? Are you sick?"

Sure. Why not?

She is sick with grief.

None of them will understand. She didn't tell them, when she started to date him. Not that it was dating at first. First, it was meeting for coffee so he could "properly thank her" for her help in New Orleans. He had made her so mad she dumped her entire cup of scalding coffee on his head and stormed away.

Not the best start to a normal relationship.

Without it, they would never have had whatever it was they had.

"Rogue?"

After a moment, another BAMPH fills the room.

Maybe now he'll tell them she's sick and she won't have to explain away red-rimmed eyes and dark circles and pale skin and her lack of an appetite for anything. For life, for music, for food, for smiles and laughter and any kind of happiness.

She wants to go back in time.

She wants to stop this.

Tears soak into her pillow, little drops of her desolation.

Little drops of misery.

How fucking poetic.

Poetic won't bring him back.

No one will care. Her friends, her teammates, they won't even notice when he isn't there at the next battle. He will eventually fade to a light memory of an enemy, a little shadow of a person for them.

How can they understand that his name alone represents the sun and the stars and her heart and her soul?

"Rogue, are you up yet?"

How long has it been?

Is the dumb session already done?

"God, are you, like, really sick? I thought I, like, heard you up last night."

Please, she pleads with the air silently, do not let her check on me. Do not let her notice I'm crying.

Please.

Kitty moves to get ready.

She is still.

Tears slip down her cheeks freely.

She has given up on containing them.

_Remy'sdeadRemy'sdeadRemy'sdeadRemy'sdead_

God, no.

No.

It's not fair!

He was too young to die!

Jean pokes her head in the room.

"Kitty, are you okay?"

"Like, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just… Someone in here is really projecting some negative feelings."

She can feel their eyes boring holes into her back.

"Rogue?" Kitty shakes her gently.

"Go away." She tries to make her voice angry.

It comes out meek and broken.

"Are you okay?" Jean's voice asks.

She doesn't answer.

But the tears still fall.

Finally, they leave.

She doesn't care.

Now that they are gone, she sits up and pulls her knees to her chest.

The tears soak into her silk pajama bottoms.

They were a gift from him.

_"Long an' practical, but so light y' won' even know y're wearin' 'em." _He had laughed.

_"Is that a euphemism, Swamp Rat?"_ She had rolled her eyes as she accepted them.

_"Y' t'ink very lowly o' me, don' y'?"_

No. She never had.

Not that she could tell him now.

Everything reminds her of him.

He gave her that CD, the one she always listens to when she's upset. He bought her that book, he helped her choose that necklace, he left her that deck of cards as a joke. She has secretly surrounded herself with little proofs of their love, their relationship, and now she wishes she never had.

She has pictures of him, of them, in a shoebox under her bed.

With that damn Queen of Hearts that started this whole mess.

No one knew. Not Logan (though he might have suspected; she came home smelling like smoke and bourbon without the scent in her breath more times than she can count), not Kurt, not Kitty, not even Professor Xavier. It was a beautiful secret.

Even though the other Acolytes knew.

To be fair to Remy, he tried to keep it a secret.

They were too sneaky for them.

The tears replenish as she thinks of these things.

He can't be dead.

Fucking Julien.

And his goddamn gun.

She wants to shriek and rage.

Maybe she will.

Now all she can do is cry.

After God knows how long, she forces herself out of bed. Forces herself into the bathroom, peels away layers of clothes, steps into the warm shower.

She can barely feel the heat.

Without thought, without much of anything, she turns it up all the way.

The scalding water burns, hurts, boils her pink flesh.

She still can't feel a damn thing.

Nothing but emptiness.

Warm tears mix with the scalding water, until she doesn't remember if she's crying or not, until she can't do a damn thing to make herself move.

She doesn't care.

Why did he go? Damn New Orleans. Damn Julien Bordreaux. Damn herself, for not stopping him. He can't be gone. He can't, he can't, he can't.

She leans against the cool tiles of the shower wall, a welcome relief to her scalded back, something she hardly notices. She slides down to the floor, buries her face in her hands.

Loud, aching sobs rack her body.

He cannot be gone.

He is her everything.

She cannot forget him.

She cannot move on.

By the end of the day, the tears have stopped only because she is dehydrated and cannot make her broken eyes create more water.

She has to eat dinner, even though she isn't hungry.

She has to show up, anyway.

"Rogue, we missed you at school today." Kitty nudges her as she sits down; the brunette's way of asking her what's wrong.

"Ah didn't miss it." She tries to joke lightly, but it comes across as pathetic and painful to her own ears. Her eyes are still swollen from the tears. Her stomach aches from the effort of crying. She doesn't notice all that much.

"What was wrong today?" Ororo asks gently; obviously, not a damn person bought her lie of illness.

She wonders for a moment if she should be honest. If she should admit that she cannot fathom her life now, because of a damn phone call. If she should admit that she has spent the day crying, that she cannot try to be okay without Remy.

The words sound pathetic in her mind, so she dismisses them.

"Headache. Psyches actin' up. It's fine now." She lies through her teeth.

"Rogue, next time, you should come to me." Professor Xavier smiles kindly.

Thank, but no.

"Ah will."

She is silent through dinner.

Contemplating.

Trying to imagine life without him.

Her phone- another fucking gift from him, why did he love her so damn much?- starts to buzz in her pocket. She glances at the caller ID before answering at the table. Perhaps it is rude; right now, that hardly matters.

"Hello?" She asks softly.

"Rogue?" Johnny's voice is on the other end. "That ya, Sheila?"

"No, it's the fucking Easter bunny." She snaps, her grief spilling into rage. "What do ya want?"

"Ya sound like death."

"Ah noticed."

"The funeral's Thursday afternoon. Ya comin'?"

"No." She says sarcastically. "Of course. Ah… Ah couldn't miss…"

Tears well in her eyes.

"Don't sound so bloody upset." He sighs wearily on the other end. "He left ya pretty much everything he had. In the will."

"Ah don't wanna hear about the damn will." She snaps, forgetting herself for a moment. "Why would Ah care about that? Havin' his stuff won't bring him back!"

"Don't cry, now." The Aussie makes a weak attempt at comforting her through the phone. "Petey, I made her cry! I told ya you should handle it, ya bloody idiot!"

"It's fine. Ah gotta go anyway."

"Call if ya need anything, Sheila."

As if.

"Sure."

She hangs up without a word, trying to blink away the tears she thought she didn't have any more of. They won't disappear, they won't return to wherever they came from. She bites her lip.

"Rogue?" Kurt stares at her. "Whose will?"

She can't answer. The name is stuck in her throat. If she says it, it's true. It's not true, is it? This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. It isn't real. Nothing's real, as long as he's still there, as long as she hasn't lost him, she can't lose him…

"What isn't real?" Kitty asks gently.

She was talking aloud?

"Ah…" She can't speak. Another word, and she will dissolve into tears. She will dissolve into a puddle of water, but then she won't suffer like this, then it won't hurt so much, it won't feel like nothing will be okay again, her heart won't have this huge hole in it, she won't be so lost and confused and so fucking alone, God, why did he go-

She is crying again.

Soft, small little tears slide down her cheeks.

She cannot stop them.

"Remy." It's a word.

One word.

But it means everything.


	7. Moonlight

**Hey!! I'm glad you guys are liking this; I love ROMY. This is much more cheerful and fluffy. By the way, in Impact it seemed as though the gazebo Rogue pushed Mystique off of was overlooking the sea. If it isn't, you must pretend it is for this one-shot. Mucho love!**

**Moonlight**

"What are y' doin' out here, all by y'rself?"

She started from her comfortable position, startled by the voice. A moment later, she drew her knees back to her chest.

"Enjoyin' the lovely view." She replied sarcastically, crossing her arms over her knees. She rested her chin there, staring at the sunset. They had never fixed the gazebo. The splintered wood hung limply, leaving a hole large enough to stare at the reflection of the sunset on the crashing waters below. She wondered why the professor had simply left the evidence of her murder; maybe it was as simple as he hadn't had the time.

There was some kind of poetic irony in her mother's little wake of destruction, as if she couldn't even do something like die without destroying the things around her.

Like the splintered wood.

Like her daughter's innocence.

"Y' don' sound so happy, _chere_."

She felt something drape over her shoulder; the scents of cigarettes and bourbon and spices of home were overwhelming. She scooted over, just a little, to make room for him to sit beside her. He did a moment later.

"Want t' talk 'bout it?"

"Not really."

The waves crashed below them, roaring as they slammed into the beach. She took a deep breath, the salty air stinging her nose. She wasn't surprised to see him there. She had wondered when he would come back from Louisiana. It made sense, somehow, that the first thing he would do was sneak onto Institute grounds and find her.

Ever the thief.

"What're y' t'inkin'?"

"When did ya get back?" She answers his question with another, a little smile in place.

"Dis mornin'." He grins. "Had t' come see _ma chere_ and make sure she was holdin' up okay."

"Ah'm fine." She rolled her eyes, suddenly aware of his eyes on her. Pink crept up her neck at this realization.

"Y're cute when y' blush."

"Shut up."

"De blue boy forgave y', den?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." She nodded, despite her own conflicted emotions.

"How strange," He grinned at her, "Dat he would forgive y' jus' cause he loves y'."

He took the thought straight from her own mind. He couldn't know her that well by now. With a quirked brow, she turned to look at him. He was grinning.

"Are ya makin' fun of me?"

"_Non_." He shook his head. "Why's dat so hard f'r y' t' understand? Dat someone would forgive y' cause dey loved y'?"

"Ah killed his mother." She replied, her gaze firmly on the setting sun. "That's a hard thing to forgive for no reason."

Almost as if he could guess that there was nothing more she would say on the subject, he fell silent as well. The waves below them crashed against the shore, louder without the words to distract her. She thought of a shattered rock, washed away by pulling tides. She wondered if parts of her mother's stone body lay in the ocean, shifting and moving with the tide. She wondered if what Kurt had done with the rest.

She wondered why it mattered to her.

Like she thought before, destruction. Forgiveness didn't heal the pain. Forgiveness didn't undo her act. It only glossed it over, covering the wound and letting it fester beneath the surface.

She blinked.

"Y' know, dose waves would be fun t' wade in. Or swim." He grinned at her.

"Swim?" She raised an eyebrow. "Why would ya swim? It's gettin' cold."

"So?" He rolled his eyes. "Y' don' have t', _chere_, but y' should 'ccompany li'l ol _moi_."

"How about not?" She sighed.

"Come on!" He hopped to his feet. "Leave dat old t'ing up here, don' wanna get sand on it."

She stood as well.

"Ah'm not goin' down there."

"Sure y' are!" He glanced down. "Dere are footholds, and 'm sure dere's a path back up."

"Are ya crazy?" She stared at him as he began to carefully climb down the cliff wall.

"_Oui_, crazy wit' love!" He snickered as he disappeared below the edge.

"Damn it." She murmured to herself as she draped the trench coat over the solid side of the gazebo. With a mental groan, she began to carefully work her way down.

It was a relief to feel soft sand beneath her tennis shoes as her feet touched the ground. Remy glanced up at her from his position sitting against the hard rock.

"Told y' y'd come."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes.

She sat beside him. They watched the very end of the sunset, watched as the pink streaks across the sky slowly faded to blue and then to black. The rough rock dug into her shoulders, while the soft sand moved around her heels.

"Care f'r a midnight swim?" He grinned.

"It's only eight or so, Cajun." She rolled her eyes.

"All de better!" He kicked off his boots and rolled up his jeans. "Y' comin'?"

"No." She crossed her arms.

"_Oui_, y' are." He seemed so self assured. A moment later, she was untying her shoes and cursing under her breath. "Dat's de spirit!" She tossed them into the sand beside her, and leaned down to roll up her jeans.

"If ya touch me, it's yer own damn fault." She snapped.

"I won' touch y'." He rolled his eyes. "Y' big baby."

She made a face at him. She had to admit, the feel of sand between her toes was strange. She didn't realize she was smiling until he grinned back. Their eyes met; for a moment, it felt as if something were pulling them closer. She tore her eyes away from his gaze and set out across the strip of beach to the water. He followed behind her.

A delighted gasp escaped her lips as the cold, salty water crashed against her legs.

"It's so cold!" She wailed.

"Tough it out." He snickered, reaching out to brush her hair out of her eyes. She recoiled, terrified of letting his hand touch her skin. With a patient grin, he took a step closer to her and swept the hair away without touching her. "No harm done, _chere_."

With a mischievous grin, she bent down and splashed him with water.

"No harm done, Cajun." She laughed as he stared at her mournfully.

"Dat's not very nice." He sighed dramatically.

"Tough it out." She imitated his accent poorly.

"Mockin' me?" He charged at her, tackling her into the water. She emerged a moment later, spitting out salt water.

"Cajun!" She shrieked, looking down at herself. "Ah am soppin' wet! Ah am gonna kill ya!"

"Y' look like a drowned rat!" He was doubled over in laughter. "Y're my little River Rat!"

"Swamp Rat…" She growled.

"'M so scared." He drawled.

"Ya should be!" She leapt at him, tackling him into the water. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her down with him. "Hey!"

"Y're already wet!" He pointed out. She laughed, unable to help herself. It was catching; within moments, both were leaning against one another for support as hysterics shook their bodies.

"Ah don't even know what's so damn funny." She tried to say sternly, which only served to send them into giggles again.

It could have been an hour before they trudged back to shore, sopping wet, stomachs sore from laughing.

"Y' look good." He said softly as they lay side by side on the beach, attempting to dry out.

"Ah thought Ah looked like a drowned rat." She grinned.

"Y' look beautiful. Wit'out all de makeup." He paused. "Y' always look beautiful."

She was silent; the words washed over her.

"Ah-"

"S'okay, _chere_, jus' accept de compliment." He laughed. "Don' be so defensive."

"Logan's gonna kill me when Ah get back." She said after a few minutes of silence.

"No one's gonna kill _moi_." He replied softly. "Well, maybe John."

"Why would Pyro kill ya?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Left him all alone." He grinned at her confused expression. "De boy's very clingy, Rogue."

"Ah guess." She wrinkled her nose. "Ah'm not that dry."

"Me neit'er." He grinned. "Let's walk 'round, pick up shells, let de wind dry us off. _D'accord_?"

"Why the hell not?" She shrugged as he helped her to her feet.

They began to walk, looking for a way to get back up without climbing the cliff again. Pretty little shells littered the beach, which neither Southerner minded picking up (though the thing usually ended up in the sand again before long; it seemed Rogue couldn't stand to go very long without throwing them at Remy, and he simply had to retaliate).

"F'r y'." He presented the little conch shell, empty as could be, as if it were a prize.

"Thanks." She laughed mockingly as she took it, pocketing it. "And… Fer ya!" She held out half of a clam shell, a pale white in the moonlight.

"I'll keep it f'rever." He promised dramatically.

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, kicking up sand in front of her. "C'mon, Ah'm still wet."

By the time they went to find their shoes and leave, the shoes seemed impossible to find.

"Maybe de sea took 'em." He wrinkled his nose. "Dose weren' dat expensive anyway. Y' need y'rs?"

After a few minutes of futile searching, she decided she didn't need them after all. They walked together, barefoot and searching for the way up. Somewhere along the way, his arm ended up slung around her shoulder.

"An' den Piotr- de big Russian- was so fed up, he actually threw the lasagna at John." He laughed a little as he concluded the story. She laughed too; how long had it been before that night that she had really laughed like this? She couldn't remember.

"Sounds like a regular night 'round here." She laughed. "Kitty and Kurt get into serious fights about milk, of all things. It always ends in a food fight."

"Do y' partake in dese fights?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Are ya jokin'?" She stared at him. He was unsure if that was a yes or no. "There's a reason the New Recruits are afraid every time we have spaghetti fer dinner."

"Y're a spaghetti master?" He snorted.

"One day, Ah'll show ya." She grinned.

"I'll look forward t' dat." He laughed. They stumbled across the path (mostly by accident), and started the long trudge back to the gazebo.

"So… Ya know that Ah'm pretty much screwed cause of ya, right?"

"_Oui_." He grinned. "But y' seem okay wit' it."

"Ah guess." She grimaced.

"I like it better when y' smile."

They walked in silence, his arm still resting on her shoulders. When they finally reached the gazebo, he grinned and kissed the back of her gloved hand.

"_Bon nuit_, _ma belle_." He sauntered away.

She stared after him for a moment before turning to the trench coat lying on the railing. With a mischievous grin, she slipped it on.

He wouldn't miss it too much.

Despite the facts that she was going to be grounded, that the little conch was digging into her thigh, that she smelled and itched of salt, she couldn't help the smile as she made her way back to the Institute.


	8. I'm Sorry

**Sorry another sad one. Forgive me? NOTE: This will have an accompanying piece probably. Next chapter if so. **

**I'm Sorry**

You didn't expect this.

It's like a blow to your gut, a painful slap to the face.

Why did this happen?

You don't know.

Or maybe you just don't want to.

You know that when you went to bed, she was here.

And when you woke, she was gone.

You are upset. You light up a cigarette, trying to take special pleasure in the fact that she hated it. Instead, you stub it out and growl angrily. Even after she's gone, she can control you.

Why did you have to love her?

You almost believed them, as sad as it is. If anyone was going to go, it was you. If anyone was going to be hurt, it was her. Why have the roles reversed? You don't like it, you hate it almost as much as the idea of hurting her yourself.

Almost.

Everyone had threatened you. Her brother, the gruff man, they both warned you not to break her fragile heart. They both warned you that they would tear you to pieces if you shattered her.

_What about your heart? What about your little shattered pieces?_

She's gone.

Without a note. Without a good bye. Without a single word. Without a warning. Without a smile. Without even shouting accusations. Without reasons.

Without you.

She's just…

Gone.

They had all thought you would be the one to cause pain. They had all thought you would be the one unable to surrender your freedom and your whole heart. They all thought you would hurt her in the end.

_Maybe you have._

You had never fallen for a girl. You had never even said the words "I love you", in French or English, before her. Her, with her alluring smile and emerald eyes. Her, with her sadness and beauty.

You thought, when you fell for someone, she would love you back.

You thought she would feel the same passion.

You thought she would never be the one to leave.

_You thought a lot of things._

Did she ever love you at all, you wonder. Did she love you, or did she say it because it was easier? You don't know. You don't want to know, you think.

When did you realize it? How much you loved her?

Long before you sacrificed your old life to be near her.

A whole lot of good it did.

You know when.

A night. A carnival. You followed her there. As her friends slid away to do other things, you confronted her. It took all your charms, some pleading, and the promise of buying her a Coke afterwards to convince her to ride one ride with him. The whole way to the spinning thing she had chosen, she grimaced at the lights and noise and chaos. You didn't care.

As you spun, and spun, the X-Men caught sight of you two together. She began to laugh at them, laugh at their worry and their anger, and she was beautiful. You had ever realized she was the person that threw her whole body into a laugh. Her head was thrown back to reveal a white neck, her hands clenched as her shoulders shook from the effort of it.

You wanted to make her laugh all the time.

So you did.

You took her by the hand as you were getting out and dramatically proposed marriage to her. In front of her friends. She laughed and laughed at you, at your drama, and you were happy.

And you were in love.

You decided to make her yours if it was the last thing you did.

Well, you did.

_And look where it got you_.

Sometimes, you caught her watching you with that weird half-smile you hated. It was a cross between miserable and happy, as if she knew all along it wouldn't work. As if she knew all along she would leave you. As if she knew all along something would stop her from loving you the way she wanted to.

You hated to see her smile like that.

Maybe it was foreshadowing to this.

This pain.

You would meet her on the roof, by accident (though you both knew it was no accident). You two had deep conversations there. You could watch clouds and stars and sunrises and sunsets and never run out of things to talk about. It was beautiful.

She was hesitant with her heart.

It took her two months to tell you that she loved you too.

Now she is gone.

_Without warning, without a goodbye, without any damn words_.

What happened?

You don't know.

You only know that she is gone.

That she didn't care enough about you to say good bye.

That she didn't care enough about her family to tell any of them good bye.

At first, he didn't believe she left of her own accord.

Xavier set them all straight.

He said she didn't want them to look for her.

She supposedly said she would be okay, and not to worry.

_What about you? Or her family? Did she think about that?_

You need a distraction. You grab your newest deck of cards. You climb to the roof, to your spot, to the spot you shared secrets and laughs. You pick up the two of Spades and charge it. It sails into the air, and explodes.

You wish it made you feel a little better.

No one is in a good mood today.

How can she just leave?

Without reason? Without warning?

Without one good bye?

Another card shoots to the sky, followed by yet another. The shingles of the roof dig into your back, through your shirt. You don't care.

You burn through the spades.

What did she care for you?

For anyone here?

Love isn't supposed to be like this, you muse as you toss yet another Club to the skies. As little sparks rain down, you try to think of what love _is_ supposed to be.

_Not this_.

Not this pain. This ache. The hole in your chest that won't go away isn't supposed to be love. This is supposed to be heartbreak.

You cannot have heartbreak without love.

Love and heartbreak are the same emotion, the same feeling.

You never knew it.

You never knew that you could love someone for breaking your heart. You could love someone through an aching hole. That the aching hole couldn't exist without love, and the love couldn't exist without the threat of pain.

It feels like someone ripped a hole in your chest and left you to bleed.

Why do you still love her?

_You shouldn't, you shouldn't, but you can't stop._

You are angry.

The last of the Clubs explodes above you, and you move on to Diamonds.

You are angry with her. Angry that she didn't love you enough to let you in. Angry that she didn't love you enough to stay. Angry that you gave it your all, and she didn't even try. Angry that you had no warning. Angry that she said she loved you, when it obviously wasn't enough.

The last of the Diamonds bursts into flames above him.

Angry…

Angry that she did what you knew you might do all along.

You can't admit that you are angry because it hurts.

You don't understand, this weird mixture of love and pain.

Did she feel this way all along? A worry that you never really loved her, only told her what she wanted to hear? You don't know. You don't understand any of this.

The Five of Hearts burns above your head as you try to make sense of it all. Of how you can miss someone so much, and feel so angry, and still want the best for her. How you can worry about her, and want to shout at her all at once.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Not without her.

You toss the Hearts violently, angrily. Hearts, for love. Hearts, for what she has shattered. Hearts, for her.

She was your world.

_What world, she's gone._

The Queen of Hearts smiles up at you. She was once your lucky lady. You even gave one to her. As you stare at her, you think only of emerald eyes and brunette hair, a soft Southern accent and pale skin. She took it in New Orleans, she even kept it. She said she needed the luck.

The Queen has brought you no damn luck.

A red kinetic glow comes over the card. Rather than exploding, it crumples to ash in your hands. You think of your love, as the wind blows it free of your hand. How she has blown away and you miss her already.

You try to take some satisfaction as the King of Hearts explodes above you, but you cannot. You try again with the Ace, and once again you feel no relief.

Turning to the last card, you assume a Joker lays in your hand.

Another King of Hearts rests there, staring at you. You almost charge it. And then turn it over in your hand.

A familiar scrawl reads: _I'm sorry – Marie_

And even though the pain is still there, you are somewhat consoled.

And you will be content to lay on the roof alone, sad and broken, but clutching the secret of her name.

Maybe that will have to be enough.


	9. Books, Banter, and Dimes

**Hey! Sorry for the extended absence. I won't bore you with a story for it, but I do extend my apologies! Enjoy the new one-shot, it's not a continuation. But I think that should stand alone anyway. Expect another one soon, I hope!**

**Books, Banter, and Dimes**

"Well, y're a sight f'r sore eyes."

"Wish Ah could say the same, but Ah don't like to lie."

"Feelin' catty t'day, aren' y'?"

"Ya bring it out in me."

If anyone had not known the girl as well as Remy LeBeau did, he or she would have believed her little act. Arms crossed over her chest, chin lifted in defiance, she was the epitome of "annoyed". Her self-dubbed "death glare" was almost convincing. However, when it came to the Rogue, Remy liked to think he knew better than most.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"So, who told ya?" Rogue hopped down from the stool where she had been shelving books, eyes almost twinkling in amusement. The past four or so years had changed her, though Remy already knew that. She had developed a slightly more healthy skin tone, though the word "tan" would never have described her. The gobs of makeup were now safely stored away in what he affectionately referred to as "the rebellious teen years". She had chosen a slightly more colorful wardrobe, though they never strayed to pastel colors.

Remy?

Remy would never change.

"If Ah have to repeat my question, Ah'm definitely gonna have to hit ya." She said casually, a self-assured smirk in place. He thought ruefully of her strong punch, and shook himself.

"De _petite chat_."

"So, now that yer back from the bayou after nearly three months, ya decide to hit up my friends when ya can't get ahold of me?" She raised an eyebrow as she pulled more new books from the box at her feet. She stepped back onto the stool, reaching for a higher shelf. With a furtive glance around, she lifted herself several inches off the stool to reach it.

Remy couldn't help the involuntary shiver that ran down his spine. No matter how often he had seen it before his untimely return to New Orleans, he didn't like to see her defying the natural laws of gravity.

"Basically, _chere_." He shrugged casually, leaning against the other bookshelf.

"Ah suppose that's supposed to be a compliment to me." She raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps." He shrugged noncommittally. "Y' workin' in a bookstore, den?"

"What, not dangerous enough fer ya?" She laughed. "Yeah. Ah like it here."

"_Non_, not dangerous 'nough f'r y'. Y're de one dat runs 'round in spandex, tryin' t' save de world." He wrinkled his nose.

"Ah like my side better than yers." She smirked.

"_Oui_, but Remy makes better money." He replied with a smirk of his own. "After all, he don' need t' work in a bookstore."

"Of course ya don't. Ya can just steal anythin' ya want." She rolled her eyes. "Hand me some more of those books, would ya?"

"Remy's life be much more interestin' dan y'rs." He put them in her hands with a grin.

"Ah'm sure." She smirked. "After all, runnin' around at all hours of the day and night, chasin' villains like yerself ain't interestin' at all, huh?"

"_Non_. De dark side is fun. Y' should give it a try."

"Ah did. Didn't much care fer it, believe it or not."

"Aw, now y're jus' sayin' dat t' make Remy mad."

"Can't get nothin' past ya."

"Was dat an insult t' Remy's intelligence?" He raised an eyebrow.

"If ya have ta ask, the answer is pretty obvious."

"Y' _are_ feelin' catty t'day."

"Ah prefer the term "sassy", Swamp Rat."

"Sassy? De cat getting' in y'r head?" He grimaced. "Never use dat kinda language."

"Ah'm touched that my language is so important to ya." She rolled her eyes.

"Only warnin' y', _chere_. Dat's de stuff of bad chick flicks and scary girls servin' y' coffee."

"What?" She stared at him, utterly confused by his logic. He ignored her, and she returned to focusing on her job.

He watched her silently now, as she shelved the books. She really was pretty; had he not known her so well, perhaps only seen a passing glance on the street, he might consider her the epitome of a Southern belle (and, knowing his own lecherous mind, would most likely have hoped against hope that she was incredibly slutty and/or ditzy). It was almost strange, in a way, for a girl he had known for nearly four years to be pretty.

Perhaps the thing that bothered him was that it had taken him all this time to really notice.

Despite the fact that keeping in casual contact off and on for a few years was not exactly what most people considered a friendship, he didn't mind so much. No, theirs wasn't quite a conventional relationship. Which was meant, of course, in only the most platonic of ways. Rather than confide in one another, they chose instead to argue. He often found himself looking forward to their little fights, though he would be loathe to admit it. She had shown him her vulnerable side once (maybe twice, but he was pretty sure the second time had been in sarcasm and in an attempt to make fun of him). He had lied to her throughout their strange friendship.

He continued to watch until the box was empty, occasionally handing her some of the books per her request.

"So, are ya just here to stare at me like the creeper ya are, or did ya have a reason for this lovely visit?" She asked conversationally, as one might ask about the weather.

"_Non_. Remy's also here t' annoy St. John and Piotr. Dey're waitin' f'r me at de base."

"Ya came to see me right when ya got home?" She blinked, somewhat surprised by the gesture.

"_Oui_." He shrugged. "Business in N'Awlins is borin', much as Remy loves de city, and he needed somet'in' t' make him feel alive 'gain."

"Ah'm flattered." She smirked sarcastically.

"Business", as Remy liked to call it, was more of guild arrangements after the passing of Jean Luc. But, he decided, there was no reason to spoil the visit with news of that sort. He doubted she would go for the "wow-I-so-pity-you-and-will-now-make-things-incredibly-awkward" thing, but it was occasionally better to keep these things to oneself.

"Flattery de way t' y'r heart?" He teased. "_Chere_, y'r eyes are like de Mississippi River when she ain't brimmin' wit' trash! Y're smile is dat o' an angel fallen from heaven 'cause she kept sassin' de big guy! Y'r wit is so cuttin' dat y've convinced Remy y're meant to carve out de hearts o' men!"

"Drama." She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that fer the gays?"

"What?" He stared at her.

"Don't get me wrong, Ah ain't got a problem with yer orientation, Sugah." She smiled. "Love is love, right? This definitely explains all the one night stands."

"What- Remy's not- _Non-_" The Cajun spluttered, staring at her incredulously. "_Tu es fou, fille_!"

"So says the dramatic gay man." She idly examined her nails. "Ah'm here if ya need support with yer newfound feelings. Unless ya wanna tell yer friends. They'll probably jus' laugh at ya, though."

"Remy's not gay!"

"Sure." She shrugged. "Whatever ya say. But, since ya are gay and everything, can we start referrin' to New Orleans as a man? 'Cause every time ya talk about that city, ya sound like yer in love and all."

"Y're not as cute as y' t'ink y' are." He fumed.

"Ah'm not tryin' to be cute." She gave him an innocent, wide-eyed stare. "Ah'm tryin' to be supportive."

She could hardly stifle her giggle as Remy ignored her, choosing instead to mutter and curse under his breath in French.

"Rem, Ah understand that this is hard fer ya." She offered with a mean smile. "Ah mean, if my whole life had been a lie, Ah most definitely would be crushed when Ah finally admitted it out loud."

"Remy's straight, _fille_!"

"Denial is the first step in acceptin' it." She answered. "Ah'm sure Pietro'd date ya."

"Remy don' wanna date de scrawny li'l albino!"

"Not yer type?" She paused. "What 'bout someone like Pyro or Lance? Ya seem like ya could grow to like crazy."

"Remy don' wanna date any o' dem!"

"Ya still wanna be a manwhore?" She frowned. "Remy, yer secret's out. Ya don't need to hide behind one night stands anymore. Ya don't need to get any more STDs."

"Remy don't have any STDs." He replied smugly.

"That'll make it so much easier fer yer partner to accept ya!" She clapped. "Good fer ya!"

"Y' are de most-"

"Charmin' girl ya know?" She offered. "Thanks, Rem."

He stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted by her smug assessment of his entire existence.

"Anyway, Ah'm thinkin' we'll have to go to gay bars together now. Ah can watch all the cute boys turn ya down!"

"Y' makin' offers t' go t' bars wit' Remy?" He waggled his eyebrows. "An', f'r de record, any gay guy would go f'r Remy."

"Ya know this from experience?" She asked lazily.

"Y' are de mos' infuriatin' woman in de world!"

"Ah'm so sure. What about the 'shroom?"

"Why do y' call her dat?"

"Why are ya worried about that at a time like this? We just discovered yer orientation, Remy!"

He crossed his arms, ardently ignoring her. After an adequate amount of time had passed for Remy to give up his anger, he glanced at Rogue. She was sitting in front of him, watching him with a grin of amusement.

"Ya can continue the show, Cajun. Watchin' ya pout is funny."

"How's de crush on Scooter?"

"Long gone."

"Y' don' deny it?"

"Long story."

He raised an eyebrow, but it was obvious she had no intentions of elaborating.

"Ya know, my parking meter's gonna run out in about ten minutes." She checked her watch. "On yer way out, toss a dime in it." She handed him the small silver coin. He pocketed it. "Ya better do it, Cajun, or Ah'll hunt ya down."

"Remy knows y' will, Roguey." He grinned cheekily. "Maybe dat's an incentive."

"Ya ain't funny." She crossed her arms.

"Is dis de polite way o' tellin' dis Cajun t' leave?"

"No, it's the impolite way of keepin' my car from gettin' towed."

"Remy don' know if he can believe y'."

She didn't seem to care so much; she just grinned at him.

"Well, Ah guess ya'll have to take a chance on me, won't ya?"

With a noncommittal shrug, he sauntered out of the store. He spotted her car immediately, pausing to wonder when exactly Xavier had bought it for her. It was hard to imagine that she had actually accepted it from him. To begin with, she didn't seem like the type to appreciate charity (and, as he recalled, had almost refused to let him buy her dinner in New Orleans, before remembering he had kidnapped her and deciding he deserved to pay for her).

Strange.

She had always struck him as a bike kind of girl.

He pushed the dime in to the coin slot, and glanced at the meter. It wasn't quite long enough. He pulled another dime out of his pocket and pushed it in. A mischievous grin lit up his face as he turned to the convenience store across the street.

About two hours later, Rogue clocked out. About time, she might add. Though the Cajun's little visit had given her a distraction, working in a bookstore was not always quite as fun as she hoped it could be. Particularly when customers kept you from reading for an hour because they just "couldn't find it". Despite the directions given to them at least four times.

Holding in an irritated sigh at the memory, she decided the woman had been very lucky to have only faced sarcastic indifference and surly death glares.

Upon reaching her car, she glanced at the meter. She was pleasantly surprised; Gambit had actually kept his word. Grinning to herself, she walked around to the driver's side. Just before she hopped in, she glanced at the white note on her windshield.

_Chere – It took two. You owe me one. Call me, so you can return my dime. –Remy_

Beneath his name was a phone number. She almost rolled her eyes at him, and moved to crumple up the note and toss it into the nearest trash can.

Instead, it found its way to her pocket.

Later, she would claim it was only so that she could call him to chew him out for worrying about a dime. Kitty would claim it was that she was curious to see where it went. And Remy? He, of course, insisted it was the mutual attraction of two extremely attractive people.


	10. Snow

**Hey guys! I'm sorry I haven't updated in like nine hundreed months. I have been busy... And, to be honest, lost inspiration. This is not something I absolutely love; this one-shot was necessary for me to get back into the characters. I hope you like it though! I have enfused it with my enthusiasm for the holidays... because I am just so excited for winter weather and Christmas-time! It's rather short (only eight pages.... Haha, sorry!), but it's an update right? Any inspiration you wanna send my way would not go unappreciated... Not that I wanna steal ideas or anything. **

**I'm done rambling now. Enjoy the one-shot, and please review!**

**Snow**

"See somet'in' y' like?"

"Took ya long enough."

The brunette turned away from the bookshelf, the grin on her face contradicting her irritated tone. He loved the way she smiled; it lit up her whole face. It made green eyes look like sparkling emeralds, full lips become luscious and inviting. Little dimples peeked out at its corners.

"_Mon Dieu_, y're beautiful." The man took her gloved hand and kissed it gently. She flushed with pleasure. "My compliments on ditchin' de make up."

She did look beautiful. Stunning, in fact, perfect for the winter day. White bangs delicately curled to frame her face, while her wild brunette slipped out of its loose ponytail. A dark green sweater clung to her as she tugged impatiently at the black scarf dangling around her neck.

"Ya don't clean up too bad yerself." She teased softly, reaching out to tug a little at his hair. His eyes, their lovely red-on-black, seemed to grin at her all on their own. He plucked her hand away from his messy auburn hair, as if she would ruin his hairstyle (or lack thereof).

"C'mon, _chere_, Remy's tired o' waitin' on y'." He teased.

"Last time Ah checked, ya were the one that was late." She pointed out cheerfully as they walked out of the warm little bookstore. She shivered against the cold of the New York winter. Beside her, she felt him stiffen against it. Southerners weren't built for the cold.

"C'mon, let's hurry." He took her gloved hand and pulled her along as they ran through the snow. She laughed as they ducked into a little café, delighted at the warmth and the company.

"God, Rem, the way ya act someone'd think ya don't like the cold!" She teased. He decided he did like the cold; especially the healthy flush it brought out in her cheeks.

"_Non_, Remy jus' knew y' couldn' handle it." He waved her accusation away. She rolled her eyes, chuckling to herself.

"Sneakin' out to see ya isn't so pleasant all the time. It's pretty cold tonight." She twirled a white strand of hair around her finger absentmindedly. "An' Ah doubt my team mates would be very sympathetic if Ah whined about it."

"_Tiens_! Don' dis Cajun always make it wort' y'r while?" He pouted sadly, crossing his arms over his chest. She glanced at his fingerless gloves.

"It's too cold fer that, Swamp Rat." She pointed them out critically. "Don't ya know Ah've got plenty to spare?"

"Remy be fine. What do y' want?" He glanced over the menu briefly.

"Jus' some hot chocolate. Ya?"

"Whatever _ma belle chere_ wants, o' course." He grinned. The waitress- a pretty, thin little blonde- sauntered their way.

"Can I help you?" She grinned at Remy. That sort of smile was just a little too appreciative. Rogue made a face behind her back.

"_Ouais_. We'll have two hot chocolates, _s'il vous plait_." He glanced at the waitress before returning his glance to Rogue. The blonde glanced at her as well, and seemed taken aback by his pretty date.

"Alright. That'll be just a few minutes." She turned on her heel.

"Ah bet she spits in mine." Rogue snorted as they watched her leave.

"Y' always got t' t'ink de wors' o' people, don' y' _chere_?" He shook his head, as if he were disappointed in her. "But, if y're so worried, I'll trade y' after she brings 'em."

Her pretty trill of laughter floated across the room, almost tangible. He stared at her for a moment, shocked (as he sometimes was) by her beauty. At times like this, he wished he could hold her like this forever in his memory, because no picture could ever do her justice.

"See somethin' ya like, Swampie?" Her voice was low and husky, teasing.

"Y' know I do." He took her gloved hand in his own, planting a soft kiss on it. She laughed again, rolling her eyes.

"Yer ridiculous sometimes, Cajun. Why do Ah put up with ya again?"

"'Cause y' love dis Cajun, whet'er y' want t' admit it or not." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, smirking at her. "Even if y' only agree t' meet me in secret."

"Can ya imagine the uproar if we jus' came out an' said it?" She snorted.

"Ol' Petey might be supportive!" Remy grinned.

"Ah can jus' see Kitty." Rogue laughed. "Like, oh my God, that is _so_ romantic and, like, so cute! Are ya guys, like, gonna get married? Oh my God, I have to, like, tell everyone now!"

"Better dan Buckethead." Remy smirked. "Do y' really understand how Charles will take dis relationship, Mister LeBeau? Or perhaps his lackey, Wolverine?"

"Logan's not a lackey!" Rogue pointed out defensively. "Unlike ya."

"Y're tearin' _moi_ apart, _chere_." He rolled his eyes.

"Good."

"Dat's not nice."

"Neither am Ah. We've been over this a hundred times."

The playful banter was interrupted by the delivery of their hot chocolate. Rogue watched the steam curl out from the cup, around the lump of whipped cream floating in her drink. Slipping off a glove, she dipped her finger into the cream.

"Mmm…"

"Y' could jus' drink it, like a regular human being." Remy snickered, bringing his cup to his lips. He nearly dropped it as he tried to take a sip. "_Merde_!"

"Tell me, Remy," she bit on her lip to keep from laughing as he waved his hand over his scorched tongue, "is that how yer _normal_ people drink it? 'Cause Ah'd rather be a freak any day."

"'M sure y' would. A freak in-"

"Do ya really wanna finish that sentence?" Her eyes glistened dangerously.

"What were y' t'inkin'? I jus' t'ought y' might like t' be a freak in a world where de normal people are stupider dan de few people on de edge of society."

"Nice save."

"_Merci beaucoup._"

They sat in silence for some time, sipping at the scalding drink, watching the snow fall down in fat flakes. It was a picturesque scene outside; the light glowed in the darkness of night, reflecting of the white flakes. Couples paused at windows, clinging to one another for warmth. After some time, their drinks were finished.

"C'mon." Remy stood up. She stood too, and he wrapped her jacket around her shoulder. "I've got an idea."

"Oh Lord. Yer ideas aren't usually very good."

"Y're _so_ funny." He rolled his eyes. "_Non, _dis be a good one. _Je te promets_."

They walked through the frigid city. To any passerby, they seemed a normal couple. Their fingers were interlocked, her other arm wrapped snuggly in the crook of his elbow. They were a couple in the first throws of infatuation; she gazed at him adoringly, and he would stare at her with undeniable love.

How could anyone have known how hard they'd work to get to that place?

"How long till we get there?" She whined with a little grin. "It's just _so_ cold, Swamp Rat!"

"Y're tryin' t' annoy _moi_, aren' y'?"

"Maybe." She grinned impishly, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not dat much longer, but y' aren' gon' be warm." He smirked as they took a detour through the park.

"Why's that?" She pulled away from him to shoot him a mock glare. In response, he bent down and scooped up a snow ball. She shrieked as if connected with her back.

He laughed, a loud booming sound in the quiet of the park.

"Remy LeBeau!" She screamed in anger. "Ah am gonna kill ya!"

She leapt at him, knocking him into a snowdrift. He tugged her down with him, and they tumbled into the powdery snow. For a moment, they lay still, laughing.

Until Rogue took a handful of snow and stuffed it down his shirt.

"_Merde_!" He cursed, jumping to his feet. "Jesus, _chere_!"

"Yer welcome." She snickered. He was too distracted jumping to and fro, trying to get as much snow out of his shirt as possible.

"Y' are in _so_ much trouble!" He snarled, turning on her with mock anger.

"Ah'm so terrified!" She pretended to swoon, and leapt nimbly to her feet. "What're ya gonna do, Cajun?"

He jumped at her, and she ducked out of his way. Mock shrieks filled the air as she evaded him, laughingly. He managed to get a hand on her jacket and swung her around to the cold ground. Luckily (for her, of course), she grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him down with her.

"I almos' wanna f'rgive y', t' stay like dis." He smirked. He was lying on top of her, in the snow, their legs tangled together.

"Ah'm so sure." She laughed, shoving him off of her. He pouted as she stood up, brushing the melting snow from her clothes. "Yer gonna freeze down there."

"So?"

"Yer gonna sit in the snow and get frostbite?"

"Dat's de plan." He crossed his arms defiantly. She laughed, and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow.

"Ya sure about that?" She asked.

"_Oui_." He nodded.

"Suit yerself." She hurled it at his head. It exploded on impact, sending powdery snow down his back. He yelped and jumped up, eyes ablaze.

"_Chere_!"

"It got ya up, didn't it?" She smirked.

He glared at her before kneeling to scoop up a handful of his own snow. She grinned and began to run toward a tree for cover.

"Coward!" He called after her, chasing She ducked down behind the tree, made a quick snowball, and leapt out to throw it at him. Instead, she got a face full of snow and dropped her own handful in shock.

"Truce?" He gulped at the murderous look on her face.

"Ya wish!" She ran into him, knocking him to the ground. As he dazedly tried to sit up, she kicked snow into his face.

"_Fou femme_! Y're so mean t' me!"

"This is war, Swamp Rat!" Rogue declared.

"War?" He grinned. "Better watch out, den."

They each ran in opposite directions, preparing an arsenal of snowballs. Rogue ducked behind a bush on the outer of the park, nearly slipping on the sidewalk as she bent down to take the snow from under the dead shrub.

She shuddered at a gust of wind. Southerners were _not_ made for the cold. She had forgotten it in the fight with Remy; running around had kept her so warm, and then the way he looked at her lit her on fire and-

"Y' can't hide from _moi_!" His triumphant voice crowed as a snowball hit her in the face.

"Cajun!" She shrieked, jumping to her feet. "Ah will kill ya!" Without another thought, she jumped over the dead bush and ran at him, firing the few snowballs she had managed to make.

She tackled him into the snow. It flew up around them, and the light powder settled over their entangled, laughing bodies. Shaking with laughter, Rogue took a handful of snow from the ground beside her and smeared it across his face. He spluttered and shook his head, sending half-melted snow over both of them.

"_Chere_, y' win! 'S too cold f'r dese games." Remy shivered, holding his hands up in defeat.

"Good boy." She smiled. He stood up, and helped her to her feet. He bent down and gently pressed his lips to hers for a brief moment, stumbling back as the force of her powers began to pull at him.

"_Chere_," He mumbled dizzily, "Dere's somet'in' I've been meanin' t' tell y'."

"Y're somet'in' else, Swamp Rat. Y' know that?" She shook her head helplessly at him. "Only someone like y' would try dat."

"'M one o' a kind." He nodded sagely.

"Ain't necessarily a good t'ing." She teased gently, dancing out of reach when he reached out as if to push her.

"Y're so mean t' _moi_!"

"Y' know 'M kiddin'." She said softly, looking up at him from out of the corner of her eyes.

He pulled her out of the park, shaking the melted snow out of his hair. She grumbled good-naturedly as it fell into her own hair. They walked, fingers intertwined, back to the little bookstore. He glanced at the distance back to the institute.

"Lemme give y' a ride home, _chere_."

"Nu-uh!" She shook her head, relieved to have her own accent back already. "If Logan sees it or smells it, he'll figure it out. He already suspects, ya know."

"'M not lettin' y' walk home in de dark an' cold!" He shook his head vehemently. "'Sides, I need y'r body warmth on my bike!"

"No, Cajun!" She teased, swatting at his arm. "Ah gotta go."

He captured her in his arms, drawing her close to him. Their faces were almost touching, and he looked her straight in the eyes.

"Y're not walkin' home, _chere_. End o' discussion."

"Yes, Ah am." She insisted, but made no move to escape the embrace.

"_Non, chere_. Won' let y'. Sorry." He reached down and carefully brushed a white strand of hair behind her eyes. "Who knows what kind o' bad t'ings could happen t' y' in de night, _hahn_?"

"Ya think Ah can't take 'em out?" She teased, lightly tracing her gloved fingers over his chest.

"Jus' 'cause y' can doesn' mean y' should have t'." He smirked.

"Calm down." She rolled her eyes. "Ah'll be fine."

"Y' will. 'Cause y'll be wit' _moi_."

"Don't be so protective!" She laughed. "Come on, Ah'm gonna be late."

"Not if y' accept de ride."

"Why?" She sighed.

"I protect de t'ings I love." He replied softly.

"Wanna run that by me again?"

They stood, still facing each other, still embracing. Her eyes were wide, as if she wasn't sure she had heard him right. His face was very carefully neutral.

"I protect de t'ings I love." He repeated softly, slowly. He brought a hand up to brush her bangs out of her eyes. "An' y're one o' dose t'ings, Rogue. I love y'."

"Ah…" She looked up into his eyes. "Ah love ya, too, Rem. So much."

"Now, since dat's decided, y're ridin' wit' me."

"No, Ah'm not." She shook her head.

"_Oui_, y' are."

"No!"

"Yes, y' are." He took her hand, and gently pulled her toward the bike. "Y' don' get a choice."

"Yer tricky." She sighed in resignation as she pulled on a helmet.

"What do y' mean?"

"Springin' that on me. Sneaky!"

"Dat's jus' 'cause y're so stubborn."

She wrapped her arms tightly around him as he started the bike. She really hoped (but somehow doubted) that Logan wouldn't hear the roaring bike outside. They sped down the road and stopped in front of the Institute.

"Call y' later, _chere_." He helped her down (despite her irritated protests that she could do it just as well herself).

"Oh Lord. Logan'll kill ya if he hears yer voice."

"It's a risk I'll take." He shrugged with a confident smirk. "Hurry along, y're late."

"Thanks to ya!"

"_Peut-etre_." He shrugged with a smirk, and took her face in his gloved hands. He planted a soft kiss on her lips, and gently pulled away. He steadied himself, trying to keep his balance from her draining powers.

"Y're ridiculous."

"Go inside 'fore Wolvie kills y'."

"Will y' be okay t' drive, Swamp Rat?"

"I'll manage."

"Stripes!" Logan snarled from the other side of the gate.

"Shit. Get lost." She shoved him away jokingly. She walked up to the gate, as if she were just returning from the bookstore.

"Stripes…" Logan's angry face stared at her from the other side of the gate.

"Yes?" She tried to blink innocently.

"Where were ya?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"De bookstore." Damn accent.

"Yer comin' with me."

With an irritated sigh, she grudgingly followed the furious Canadian. Though she tried to contain it, a small grin crept up her face. He loved her. He loved her and wanted her and needed her.

"Don't think I can't see that little smile, Stripes." An angry voice snarled ahead of her. "I've got eyes in the back of my head."


	11. Revelations

**So it has been awhile.... My sincerest apologies! I cannot promise quick updates. I have about a billion half-finished ROMY one-shots, but they never end up how I want them. Anyway, I really appreciate all the reviews! Over 100! It's amazing. I hope you enjoy this one-shot- it's very cute and fluffy!**

**Revelations**

"It's gon' be fine."

"Easy for ya to say."

"Aw, _chere_, I've got complete faith in y'."

"Ya won't be saying that next week, when it's yer family."

"_Merde_, Rogue, don' even remind _moi_." The tall man shuddered dramatically, his red-on-black eyes twinkling. Despite his light teasing, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The girl rolled her green eyes at him, pulling a dusty brown trench coat closer to her for warmth. They huddled on the porch, hiding from the falling flecks of snow.

"Oh- wait. Ya should probably wear this. Don't wanna give 'em a heart attack any sooner than absolutely necessary." She grimaced as she handed back his trademark coat. His fingers brushed her bare neck, a warm comforting touch.

"Don' be such a baby."

"Yer such a jerk."

"Y' love _moi_, don' deny it."

"Ah think Ah mi-" She cut herself off as the front door opened.

"Rogue!" Kitty Pryde squealed loudly, throwing herself out the door to engulf her best friend in a hug. "I haven't seen you in, like, forever!"

"_Oui_, jus' de other day don' count." Remy snickered. Kitty seemed to have only just noticed him.

"Um… Why do you have an Acolyte with you?" She cocked her head in confusion.

"He's not an Acolyte anymore. He's actually thinkin' of joinin' the X-Men." Rogue grinned at Remy, who made a face at her.

"Don' remind dis poor Cajun! Always swore he'd be de last one t' transfer t' de other side!" He gasped. Kitty giggled despite herself.

"Everyone's gonna be psyched to see you." The petite brunette informed Rogue with a grin. "You'd think you'd have been gone for, like, years instead of a couple of months."

"Everyone else got to take time off after high school. Ah just took it a little later than y'all." The Southern mutant pointed out with a little pout, and Kitty laughed.

"Does this mean you're coming back now?" Kitty asked as they made their way through the foyer into the kitchen. They passed a surprising amount of students- Rogue recognized very few of them. She supposed that recruiting was going well, then.

"Ah dunno." She shrugged as her heart began to race. She thought once more of the main reason for this visit. "We'll just have to see, Ah guess."

"Kurt's going to be thrilled to see you- he just got back from Germany yesterday, actually." Kitty chattered as they searched the mansion for the original X-Men. "Jean's getting pretty big now- she's due in a couple of weeks, you know."

"Maybe we'll shock her int' early labor." Remy murmured in her ear, too low for Kitty to hear. She had to cover up her snort of laughter with a fake cough.

"You don't even, like, know half the people I'm telling you about. You don't care, do you?" Kitty grimaced at herself when they stopped in front of Xavier's office door. Before they could knock, he called out a genial welcome.

"Hello Rogue." The older man smiled warmly at her as they walked into the small room. "And welcome, Mr. LeBeau."

"T'anks." The Cajun shifted uncomfortably as the two girls claimed seats.

"You may have a seat, if you wish." The telepath grinned at him.

"Right." He was beginning to feel some of Rogue's nervousness, looking at the benign telepath. She offered him a fleeting grin before returning her attention to Professor Xavier.

"Hey, Professor." She grinned at him cheerfully. "Nice to see y'all gettin' on so well. Ah guess parents are more willin' for their kids to come here now."

"You have guessed correctly."

For a few minutes, the four of them made polite conversation. Remy couldn't focus on the conversation and felt distinctly uncomfortable in this office. He rarely found himself in this sort of office; either he was working on his trade (and making a good deal of money from whatever trinket he stole for the Guild) or he was being lectured by his _pere_. Rogue seemed to guess the train of his thoughts; her foot connected crudely with his shin.

He interpreted it to mean "stop whining, you big baby". He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at her.

"And Remy- er, Gambit, whatever ya wanna call him- is thinking about joining up." Rogue announced. Remy tried his best to look completely comfortable with the idea, or at the very least like the idea didn't scare the shit out of him. He did not want to sleep in a house full of people that still considered him to be an enemy- particularly when the majority of those people could do very frightening things to him without even breaking a sweat.

"Is that so?" Xavier grinned at him, and he relaxed a bit. "Funny, Mr. LeBeau, you never struck me as the type."

"Call me Remy." He said smoothly. "An' Rogue has convinced me dat it's an option. T' consider." He shot her an irritated look, and she grinned cheekily at him.

"Consider away." The telepath had clearly guessed more than either Southerner had let on. "Well, I am delighted to see you, my dear."

Remy wondered if they noticed a difference in her. He liked to think he had made her happier, more cheerful, less reclusive. Granted, other circumstances may have… helped. But, all the same, he would like some of the credit. He liked the way she smiled, the way her green eyes lit up, the way her laugh sounded- he liked that he could cause all of these things.

With a guilty grin, he remembered how very foolish it was to allow one's thoughts to wander in the same room as the world's most powerful telepath.

"So, Ah was wonderin' if maybe the old team could have dinner together tonight. Catch up. Ah've been gone so long, Ah wanna know what's been going on." Rogue suggested. Remy felt the pace of his heart quicken, and tried to swallow his nervousness. He needed to be there for Rogue, at the very least.

Visions of an irate Wolverine gutting him entered his mind, and a tiny shudder traveled down his spine.

"Because your weekly phone calls and occasional visits have not kept you in the loop?" Xavier smiled. Strange; he had never struck Remy as the joking type. Rogue, of course, laughed.

"There's always some drama Ah don't know about."

"I am certain that could be arranged. They will all be delighted to see you."

Taking this as a dismissal, the three young adults left the room. Remy wondered for a moment if the telepath had guessed more than he let on.

"Well, I'm gonna go, like, gather everyone up!" Kitty said perkily, and left them alone before either could say a word.

"She's hoping that by giving us space, Ah will magically decide to date ya."

"Y'? Date _moi_?" He smirked, tucking a white strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her soft skin, and she couldn't help the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "What a _fou_ t'ought, huh?"

"The craziest." She agreed, trying to ignore the nervous patter of her heart. He grinned at her.

"Y're nervous."

"So're ya." She punched his arm playfully.

"'M mortally wounded! Y're so cruel, _ma belle chere_!" He gasped dramatically. "Y' could revive me wit' a kiss."

"In yer dreams." She rolled her eyes.

"Y're always in my dreams." He grinned at her. "Always in various states of undress… Y' do de mos' interestin' t'ings wit' y'r lips…"

"Remy Etienne LeBeau!" She glared at him. "Ya are a pervert."

"What's wrong wit' a bikini or sundress?" He asked innocently. "An', y' know, not dat many people can contort deir lips int' weird shapes."

"Yer a terrible liar." She couldn't help a laugh as she struggled to maintain a stern expression.

"Only t' y', _chere_." He pointed out.

"Only to me." She repeated with that little half-grin he loved. He brushed his lips against her forehead, and stepped back.

"If we're goin' t' dis dinner, we better get a move on."

"Fine." She shuffled behind him, clearly stalling.

"I never took y' t' be such a chicken." He teased her.

"Oh, shut up."

… … …

As they ate and caught up, Rogue felt under the table for Remy's hand. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze, and she found herself just a little less nervous. Kurt was regaling them with a ridiculous story of Germany, eliciting giggles even from a very pregnant Jean. Scott's arm was slung casually around his wife's shoulder. Kurt shifted in agitation as he recounted some his zanier exploits. Kitty was laughing, next to him.

She didn't want to break up the peace.

Maybe she could just not tell them.

As if he could sense the train of her thoughts, Remy gave her fingers another hard squeeze. Shooting him an exasperated look, she squeezed back. She wouldn't _actually_ chicken out.

She hoped.

"So, Stripes, how was Mississippi?" Logan asked after several moments of a peaceful silence.

"Warm." She answered immediately. Kurt and Kitty laughed aloud- they had been privy to many of her irate rants about the cold Northern weather. Even Scott cracked a smile. "How's life here?"

"The runts are annoying as hell." Logan admitted. When Ororo and Hank shot him identically exasperated looks, he shrugged. "What? It's true."

"They always are." Rogue agreed with a little grin.

"So… Why did you bring Gambit?" Kurt eyed the former Acolyte suspiciously. The two Southerners exchanged a glance which seemed to contain an entire conversation.

"He's thinkin' about joining up. Since Ah was comin' up anyway, Ah let the Swamp Rat tag along." Rogue answered carefully.

"_Non_, dis River Rat was _lucky _t' have such a handsome travelin' companion." Remy corrected her cheerfully.

"Ya wish." She rolled her eyes. "Was it lucky that Ah had to sit there and watch ya suffer from air sickness?"

"_Tiens_!" He pouted. "Dat was supposed t' be private!"

"The whole plane knew." She snickered at his miserable expression.

Kitty eyed them carefully. It was almost as if Rogue were… flirting. Kurt and Logan, wearing identical frowns, seemed to agree with her conclusion. She was pleased to see her friend wearing slightly lighter colors and less makeup. She was pleasantly surprised to hear her laugh easily, to watch her accept contact as Remy ruffled her hair.

"Anyway, that's why the Swamp Rat is along." Rogue smoothed her hair from said ruffling, shooting the man an annoyed glance. He grinned cheekily.

"F'r de mos' part." Remy goaded her. She shot him a dirty look.

"What?" Kurt looked at them curiously, despite his distrust.

"Nothin'."

"Rogue…." Remy whined.

"Shh." She shushed him.

Xavier seemed rather amused by the whole exchange. Logan seemed to be deciding which of his claws would be best for gutting the flirty Cajun menace. Hank and Ororo looked mildly interested. Kurt seemed torn between surprise and suspicion, while Kitty was almost wetting herself with excitement to see her best friend acting like a normal human being. Jean seemed to be trying very hard to figure something out, whereas Scott was just trying to force himself to keep civil with his former enemy.

"But Ro-ogue…"

"Now is clearly not the best time." She pointed out in a whisper, which Logan (of course) overheard.

"The best time for what, Stripes?" The Canadian raised an eyebrow. The table was silent as everyone expectantly looked at their friend.

"Um…" She looked at Remy for help, but he grinned and shook his head. "Well… Uh…" She glared at the silent table. "Y'all could make this a _little _easier ya know."

"But why would we, like, do that?" Kitty laughed. "It's so fun to watch you squirm."

"Some friend ya are." She crossed her arms. "Okay… Well, the thing is… There's another reason Ah brought Remy here today."

"And…?" Kurt prompted her. She had fallen silent for a good minute or so.

"And it's that… Well, y'all, please don't… Er…"

"We're engaged." Remy supplied for her. "How's dat, _chere_?"

"Really upfront." She eyed her friends. No one else had made a sound. Kurt was currently gaping at them, unable to breathe or speak. Kitty seemed close to exploding from her surprised excitement. Scott stared at her in shock, as did his wife. Logan looked somewhere between flabbergasted and furious. Xavier was smiling, a knowing twinkle in his eye. Hank glanced between the two, as if trying to understand it. Ororo's mouth was caught between an "o" of surprise and a delighted smile.

"Hello?" Rogue asked softly as the silence persisted. "Ya broke 'em, Swamp Rat."

"_Non_, dey be fine. Give 'em a minute." He slung an arm around her shoulder. Sure enough, a few moments late, an explosion of sound greeted their announcement.

"You're, like, _engaged_? Oh my God, oh my God!"

"_Nein, das kann nicht geschehen_!"

"Um, congratulations-"

"Are you out of your mind-"

"He is the enemy, Rogue, and I think-"

"Okay, okay!" Rogue called out over the loud objections (and congratulations). "Look, we're goin' to get married. Ah'd like some support on this."

"I am going to throw you the, like, greatest bachelorette party! Should we have red roses at the wedding, or is that too cliché? We need to start looking at dresses!" Kitty blathered on excitedly. It clearly did not matter that Gambit had been an Acolyte.

"Rogue, _mein schwester_, you have to be kidding!" Kurt looked horrified. "Please, tell me zis is a joke!"

"Nope." Remy informed him with a grin.

"Not to be… rude… But, how are you going to get past your powers?" Jean flushed red. Rogue almost felt a surge of affection for the older girl- always so practical.

"Well… That's another thing." She removed her gloves, revealing pale hands. On her left hand, a ring glimmered on her fourth finger. Remy clasped his hand with her own.

When she didn't absorb him after several long moments, Hank's interest piqued.

"How on earth did you accomplish this?" He asked quickly. "We've been working for years-"

"Remy's family has some contacts, and he pulled a few strings." She grinned despite the tense situation. "They found this." She shook back her sleeve, revealing a delicate silver bracelet on her right wrist.

"And it works?" Hank couldn't stop the question from escaping his lips.

"Clearly." Rogue laughed.

"Then… You could have… _Mein Gott_." Kurt visibly blanched. "Please, tell me…"

"Just be happy for her, Kurt." Kitty poked his side. "You can be the, like, big protective brother later. I'm breaking out the champagne!"

"Aren't ya the only one of us still underage?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe." The valley girl shrugged easily as she stood to retrieve it. "So what? It's, like, a special occasion."

"I am very pleased for you both." Xavier smiled at both his pupil and former enemy. "I suppose this is the reason you have chosen to consider our team?"

"_Oui_." Remy nodded self-consciously. He did not like the way Kurt and Logan were glaring at him. "It's where she wants t' be. An' 'M helpless t' resist her."

"Whatever, Swamp Rat." Rogue rolled her eyes.

"_Non_, it's true!" He insisted with a little smirk. "When y' said y' wanted t' tell dem first, I didn' argue!"

"Only 'cause yer scared to death of yer own family." She pointed out.

"Dat's jus' a minor detail." He waved it away with a grin.

"I think Rogue is forgetting a few minor details." Logan growled. "Stripes, he kidnapped you and used you! He's just a flirt."

"Oh yeah." Rogue grinned at Remy. "Ya did kidnap me. Darn, weddin's off."

"Wait!" Remy put a thoughtful finger to his chin. "What 'bout dat time y' pushed _moi_ int' de bayou an' wouldn' let me in f'r _trios_ hours t' shower? Wedddin's back on."

"Fair enough." Rogue nodded, as if that solved that. "Any other objections?"

"He is- was- the enemy!" Scott glared at the former Acolyte, whom merely raised a disinterested eyebrow. "What proof do we have that he's done with Magneto?" Kitty, returning with a bottle of cold champagne, let out an annoyed sigh as she caught the end of Scott's protest.

"It is always about allegiance with ya?" Rogue rolled her eyes. "Even if his contract hadn't expired, he was done with that outfit. Ol' Buckethead is thinkin' about turnin' over a new leaf."

"But-"

"No more buts." Rogue interrupted her brother. "Ah am going to marry Remy and become Mrs. LeBeau. Ah just thought Ah should inform ya."

Kitty stuck out her tongue at Kurt, clearly displeased with his attempts to change his sister's mind.

"So, where will you have the wedding? I think a summer wedding would be, like, so beautiful!" The perky girl blathered on as she attempted to pop the cork. When she finally succeeded, she poured the bubbly drink into several champagne flutes and passed them around.

"It's too hot in summer down in New Orleans." Rogue pointed out. "We were thinkin' fall."

And, just like that, all the girls were cheerfully discussing wedding plans, leaving poor Remy to face angry scowls from three of the men. He frowned at his fiancé; she ignored him entirely.

He would have to get her back when they told his family.


	12. Waiting

**So the title doesn't really work with this one... And it's sooner than any have been in, oh, forever! I hope you enjoy this one-shot. It's not the best I've ever written, but oh well!**

**Waiting**

It really was an innocent object. It had never meant to hurt him- or anyone, really. It was just trying to do its job. The poor little thing; it was so often blamed for situations that really weren't its fault. In all actuality, they couldn't be its fault; it was only the messenger. What was that old saying? Don't shoot the messenger?

The little silver cell phone would have had a lot more to fear from Remy LeBeau if it wasn't an absolutely necessary item. He glared furiously at it, the innocent device, as if it had caused his problems.

He tried to concentrate on other things. He wished they would turn off the TV, where the footage was replaying for the umpteenth time. The fan whirled overhead, clicking as it spun. St. John and Piotr argued over something on the couch, but he couldn't focus on the sounds.

He flinched as he heard the building collapse again, heard the feminine shriek that he seriously hoped had emitted from the other girl (Shadowcat, if he was correct). The camera switched over to the newswoman, whom immediately spouted off some inane lies blaming mutants for the whole ordeal.

He snatched the remote and pushed the power button. His two friends looked over at him in confusion.

And yet he could only stare at the phone.

Well, that's not entirely true; he could also brood and sulk in the memory of the TV footage, but that wasn't much better than glaring daggers at an inanimate object.

He shook his head irritably, as if shaking away unwanted thoughts.

"What's with you, mate?" St. John flopped onto the couch near Remy's arm chair. Clearly, the argument with Piotr no longer warranted his attention. "You seem to be in a sulk."

"Not in de mood f'r y', Johnny." He grumbled without conviction. He was too worried. Worry was almost worse than his anger at his little silver messenger; it was, however, slightly more logical.

"We could get drunk?" The Aussie cheerfully suggested their solution to nearly every problem.

"Not t'night." Remy shook his head defiantly, glaring once more at the little cell phone. He didn't want to miss her call, if it ever came. The footage had been taken over two hours ago, hadn't it? He'd called at least four times.

Each time he was treated to an annoyed message informing him that he did not, in fact, need to leave a message because she would call him back if he was important enough to deserve a returned call.

He didn't even realize he was charging the remote, still held in a vice-like grip in his right hand. With a start, he pulled the kinetic energy back into his body. He needed an outlet for his worry, his pent up aggression.

But he _really_ needed to be by that stupid phone.

"What's botherin' ya, Remy ol' pal?" St. John batted his eyes at his friend. "Ya can tell me."

"Doubt dat." He answered shortly. The phone buzzed, and he practically leapt on it. "Hello?" He hardly cared that his voice was breathless.

"Please call us back at 1-800-"

He clicked the phone shut with a curse, chucking it at the little coffee table in front of him. Telemarketers were bad enough, but automated messages were clearly the worst.

"Expectin' a phone call?" The pyromaniac asked keenly. Remy gave him a look that clearly suggested the Cajun would do unfortunate things to his friend if he opened his mouth another time.

For a moment, they were both silent. Remy wallowed in his worry and fury, clenching his fists tightly. Couldn't she just call back now? He needed to know she was safe. St. John sat still, stupefied by his friend's odd behavior. After a moment, he hopped up and scurried to the kitchen, gesturing wildly for Piotr to follow him. With an annoyed sigh, the tall Russian followed him.

Remy could hear him muttering about how "the Cajun's gone completely bonkers!" and other such things to their stoic Russian teammate. With a muted assurance that this could surely not be the case, they moved toward the room.

"Are you alright?" Piotr gazed at the agitated Cajun.

"Jus' great." He tried to smile, but he was really just irritated. He stared at that stupid phone, as if it would ring. An old phrase came to mind, something _Tante_ Mattie used to tell him. "A watched pot never boils."

Well, this was important.

"A watched pot never boils." St. John voiced the same thought.

"If I don' look, she'll call?" Remy shot him an annoyed glare. "Fat chance."

"She?" St. John leapt at the chance to humiliate his friend. "Aw, did some Sheila turn ya down? I hear rejection can be good every once in a while. Keeps ya humble."

"Jus' be quiet." Remy snapped. It wasn't about rejection (though, up until about a year ago, she had seen fit to reject him several times).

He glared foolishly at the phone once more.

His friends exchanged a worried glance; they'd never seen him like this. Remy LeBeau was rarely a serious man. He finally kicked roughly at the wooden coffee table and stood up. Running a hand through his hair, he glared at the stupid little cell phone again. When this was over, he was charging the damn things and blowing it sky high.

"See? Told ya. Completely bonkers." St. John whispered loudly.

"Dis is jus' important." Remy grumbled.

"What, a phone call from some slutty bar chick?"

"Firs' of all, I don' associate wit' slutty bar chicks anymore." Remy snapped. Some small, vague part of him was grateful for the distraction; he was sure his poor phone was grateful that he'd found a new scapegoat on which he could take out his aggression. "Second of all, if y' don' stop annoyin' me, 'M gonna charge every lighter y' own."

"Ya wouldn't." St. John's eyes narrowed angrily.

"Wanna bet, Johnny boy?" Remy sneered.

Piotr seemed to consider them both hopeless, as he turned on his heel and left the room.

"What crawled up yer arse and died?" The pyromaniac flopped back onto the couch with a defeated air.

"Not'in'." Remy snapped back, falling back into the armchair.

He wished that stupid phone would ring. That it would be her, telling him that she was fine, that she and Kitty hadn't even been scratched by that stupid building falling on top of them, that the X-Men had decimated the Sentinel and they had been busy celebrating, which is why she couldn't call.

It seemed rather unlikely.

He wondered if he could just go to the X-Mansion. He recalled their rather powerful defenses, and let out a frustrated sigh. Even if he couldn't go there, he could get out of the stupid base. He stood up, pocketed the silver cell phone, and mumbled something about going out for a few hours.

"Maybe that's not such a good idea, mate." St. John paused. "Are ya on drugs? Is that why you're actin' like a bloody loon?"

Shooting the pyromaniac a withering glare, he turned and stalked out to his bike. The soothing sound of its purring engine failed to calm him. The gentle vibrations of the handlebars only agitated him further.

He wished the phone would buzz in his pocket.

The wind blew through his disheveled hair, through his trench coat, as he sped through the roads. He wished he could _do_ something. He had no idea where she was, what she was doing, how badly she was hurt.

He wondered briefly why it mattered so much.

Panic tore at his heart, warring with confusion. Why should he be so frightened for her? Hadn't she been in worse situations? She had defeated Apocalypse! She had spent a month in Area 51!

A loud horn jolted him as a green car swerved out of his way. The driver's rude hand gesture explained exactly how he viewed Remy's driving.

He had more important things on his mind than his companions on the road. He racked his brain for other instances, far more frightening than a silly building, when she had come out without a scratch.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped his handlebars more fiercely.

She didn't mean that much to him, she couldn't. She'd only agreed to a date seven months back. She hadn't even allowed him to call it a date. What had she said? "Ah'm merely allowing ya to buy me dinner to pay for yer considerable rudeness in kidnapping me."

(But, a nagging voice in his mind muttered, Remy hadn't seen another girl since the second date, hadn't thought once of the beautiful girls he passed on the streets every day, had bothered to actually _buy_ her something for her birthday…)

He sped up, swerving around a disgruntled mother in a minivan, eyes searching the horizon. He needed some sort of distraction, or some way to contact her. He was grasping for a needle in a haystack, only he felt as if he were blind.

He searched his brain for any other place to look. The Brotherhood House, maybe, or maybe a human hospital… She could be busy still, fighting some other battle, and that's why she couldn't call him back. He just needed to glance at her, make sure she was alright, and then he would be on his way.

He spied smoke, snaking up into the darkening sky, and immediately changed directions. It could be too much to hope for, that it was her, that it was them, but he had to try. She had to be alright.

Why did he care so much?

He shook off the thought with a frown. He could examine his actions later, once he was assured of her well-being.

But still. He was going to rather extravagant lengths to find a casual date/acquaintance. They flirted, of course, but had he ever even hugged her? Touched her gloved hand?

As he sped up the street, his breath let loose. It was a fire, a stupid house fire. He stopped a ways down the street, rubbing his eyes irritably. What was he doing, anyway? There was the slimmest of chances he would run into them, but she may not have been in New York. She could be anyway in the world. And why would they be fighting yet another battle?

His phone buzzed.

He jerked it out, and saw it was a text message from his messaging service. With a muted curse, he jammed the stupid device back in his pocket.

A loud horn interrupted his eyes as they swept over the message again. He swerved back into his own lane, and pulled over to the side of the road. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down. There was no point in worrying.

He didn't even like her that much. Well, yes, she was beautiful and funny and smart and altogether really amazing. And, yes, he did really enjoy her company, and he did seem to rearrange his life around her quite frequently.

At that moment he was hit with a possibly unpleasant realization.

There was perhaps a slim chance that he was in love with her.

(Slim?, scoffed the nagging voice in his head. Slim chance, certainly, and that building was actually made of cardboard.)

An idea began to reform in his mind. Really, it wasn't a very smart plan. She would probably be furious. And that hairy Canadian Wolverine had very sharp claws, which he doubted the man would consider holding back as he had in New Orleans. Her brother could easily teleport his remains over an ocean…

Not to mention the formidable defenses that awaited him if they weren't home.

Though he had dismissed this exact plan earlier, after such a revelation it seemed like a much better idea.

He wanted to see her with his own eyes, to see that she was unscathed and safe.

And, of course, perhaps reinforce that he was _not_ in love with her. Just concerned. Friends were allowed to be concerned, weren't they?

Maybe not.

His bike made excellent time on the way to the Xavier Institute. Ignoring the symphony of horns behind him as he swerved between cars, he pulled up to the locked gate. He eyed the dark mansion suspiciously; was anybody home?

Thinking more clearly, he moved his bike behind the bushes and leaned against a less visible part of the wall surrounding their home. He could wait, at least, to see if they were coming home later.

He pulled out his stupid silver phone again, hoping that he had missed her return call.

He hadn't.

Letting out a soft curse, he tossed the offending object into the grass beside him. Now it was merely a waiting game.

He only had to wait twenty or so minutes before the black X-Van pulled up to the gate. The metal swung open to admit the vehicle. Pulling himself to his feet, he fished around in his pockets for his bo-staff.

His thief training always seemed to come in handy.

As he launched himself over the small wall (admittedly scrambling a bit at the top; to any observer, it may have looked expertly executed), he found his thoughts were racing. If she was not okay, he would not only be devastated- he would likely become minced meat. He had banked this entire plan on her ability to convince the others not to murder him for breaking and entering.

It was too late to stop now.

He didn't really want to anyway.

He moved quickly and quietly up the lawn, toward the garage. The back of the van was just opening. Her brother hopped out, followed by Jean and Cyclops. And then-

She was there. She looked weary, and she had a scrape here and there. But she was safe, safe and well.

Without another thought, he swept to her side.

"Wha… Remy?" She looked confused. He ignored her, and looked her over. There were dark circles beneath her eyes; something had grazed her collarbone and left her with a little scrape. Her clothes were a little torn up, revealing a few scrapes here and there, but she was alright for the most part.

He ignored the shocked and angry protests of her teammates as well. Instead, his hands moved of their own accord to cradle her face, his bare fingertips brushing the soft skin at her hairline. He was surprised as his lips pressed hard against hers, and he ignored the pull of absorption, the sounds of the world, the feelings crashing around inside of him. He focused instead on the feeling of her lips moving against his, the solid feeling of her flesh beneath his fingertips.

He pulled back woozily, and stared at her.

"Never, ever do dat again."

"Fight a Sentinel?" She smiled despite herself, grinning as she relived some of his memories. He could hear a trace of his own accent in her voice, something that would likely fade very quickly.

"Anyt'in' dat dangerous." He replied. "Y' could've been killed."

"It takes more dan a tin can and a couple o' bricks t' kill _moi_."

"Okay, am I the only on that noticed the disgusting Acolyte just _kissed_ my sister?" Kurt's voice was almost hysterical as he cut into the banter. Remy was very suddenly forcefully reminded of several rather powerful mutants that might not appreciate his very strange relationship with their teammate. "Rogue, what are you doing?"

"More importantly, what the hell does this Cajun think he's doing?" Logan growled. Remy wondered if they would listen to her, if she tried to save him.

"_Oui, oui_, y'll gut Remy later." Remy waved it off, sounding far more brave than he felt.

The Canadian looked flabbergasted; very few people could stand up to his thinly veiled threats and ominous glares.

"Why are ya here? Go home." Rogue rolled her eyes. He noticed her voice had returned to normal.

"'M here 'cause I had t' make sure y' were alright." He explained.

"Right. Well, now ya know Ah'm fine." She pointed out.

"Well, I also realized dat I may possibly be in love wit' y', but dat was less important."

She seemed torn between incredulity and amusement. A little smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she tried to keep her stern face in place. Kurt stared incredulously between them.

"Is that really how ya tell a girl ya love her?"

"Y' knew?" He demanded.

"Well, yeah." She laughed now, ignoring the horrified and disgusted looks on Logan and Kurt's faces. "'Course Ah knew, Swamp Rat. But that's really not how ya tell her, in case ya were wondering."

"Swamp Rat?" Kurt's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "You gave him a _nickname_?" He paused, shaking his head as if to clear it. "And he claims to be in love with you? You _already knew_?"

"It's a term of endearment in the South." Remy grinned, ignoring the last comment.

"Term of endearment?" The German mutant looked close to fainting.

"Watch out." Rogue informed Remy dryly. "Ya might send him into cardiac arrest."

"Dat's my goal. One less person t' fight against _moi_. Wait- if dat's not how y' tell a girl, how de hell am I supposed t' do it?"

"Ya could actually say the three words "Ah love ya" in that order." Rogue raised an eyebrow. "It generally works."

"I t'ought y' hated convention." He grinned. "But, I love y'."

Kitty let out some sort of excited squeal, while Scott, Logan, and Kurt all tried to talk over one another warning Rogue against him.

"Ah can make my own decisions, thanks." Rogue rolled her eyes at the overprotective males. "Ah guess Ah can put up with ya, Cajun."

"Aw, is dat really how y' tell a guy y' love him?" Remy teased.

"How exactly am Ah supposed to do it?" She grinned at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Usually, de words "I love y'" are used, in dat order." He replied.

"We don't follow convention." She smiled. "But, Ah guess Ah love ya, Rem."

There was a loud thud as Kurt fell to the ground, apparently unconscious.


	13. Lost

**Because I am both amazing and not entirely happy with the other one-shot I posted today, I have decided to post this one as well for your reading pleasure (though I would possibly still appreciate reviews on both.... Haha). It's an all-dailogue fic (inspired by the very talented EE Skysong, whom does this quite frequently). **

**Lost**

"This is all yer fault."

"How de hell is dis Remy's fault?"

"If ya hadn't made so much noise-"

"Y're de one dat screamed."

"The _ground_ was moving from underneath me,_ Gambit_."

"Well, dat's 'cause de Sentinel destroyed it."

"Because ya were makin' a ruckus and it heard ya."

"It was sort of a battle, Rogue, Remy didn' know not t' be loud."

"That doesn't mean this ain't yer fault."

"_Oui_, it does."

"Where are we, anyway?"

"Looks like a cave of some kind."

"Really? Ya know, Ah was thinkin' it looked like a five star hotel. Or maybe a mall. But a cave? Who'd have guessed?"

"Y'r sarcasm ain' funny."

"Well, Ah'm pissed at ya."

"F'r what?"

"For bein' loud with yer stupid explosions and makin' the Sentinel blow up the ground and getting us lost in these stupid caves!"

"Remy t'ought he could find de ot'ers!"

"Well, that worked out real well. Now, we're alone and trapped and lost. So much for yer thief's instincts, huh?"

"Don' make fun o' Remy's instincts. Dey very rarely lead 'im wrong."

"Maybe when they're leading him into some slutty girl's skirt."

"_Tiens_!"

"Sorry, should Ah change that to slutty guy's boxers?"

"_Non_. Y're not bein' helpful."

"Ah'm not the one that made all the loud explosions. Or the one that insisted we go left because my thief's instincts told me the way to go."

"Remy didn' see y' takin' any initiative!"

"Well, no. Ya see, one of my friends is a telepath and another can teleport. So, if we had stayed within range, Jean could've done her weird little thing and then Kurt could've come to get us."

"Y' didn' have t' come."

"Yes, Ah did. What if ya did something embarrassing and Ah wasn't there to make fun of ya?"

"Y're warmin' up t' Remy."

"Ah still hate ya unequivocally."

"Sure, if hate actually means love."

"Why the hell would Ah love ya?"

"'Cause Remy is charmin' an' handsome an' Southern."

"…"

"_Quois_? All dese Northern boys don' know how t' treat a lady. Dey t'ink barbecue is just slices o' roast beef covered in prepackaged barbecue sauce."

"Not all of them. But ya aren't charming."

"Remy is very handsome dough."

"Yeah, in a gay kind of way."

"What's wit' all de gay jokes?"

"Dunno. They seem to piss ya off."

"Remy's sexuality has never been in question. He's been a ladies' man since he was jus' a _bebe_."

"Yeah, _queens_. Not women."

"Y're annoyin'."

"Ya screwed us over."

"Remy t'inks y' came 'long 'cause y' like de playful banter."

"Playful banter?"

"_Oui_… Ouch!"

"Is that yer idea of playful banter, Swamp Rat?"

"Y' didn' have t' hit _moi_!"

"Oh, first person. Thank God, ya were really starting to annoy me."

"Y' could've broken my jaw!"

"But Ah didn't. Ah think that's the important thing here."

"It's gonna bruise."

"Are ya gonna cry about it?"

"Will y' kiss it an' make it better if I do?"

"That depends. Do ya enjoy lifelong comas?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, then no. But Ah might laugh at ya. They say laughter is the best medicine."

"I t'ink dat only applies when y're de one doin' de laughin'."

"Ah will be the one laughing."

"Dat's not what I meant."

"So? It's bad grammar."

"We're lost in some godforsaken caves, an' y're worried 'bout my grammar?"

"How will it improve if someone doesn't correct ya?"

"It don' need t' improve."

"Doesn't, Gambit. Doesn't."

"Aren' we on a first name basis now? We are lost in de caves. Alone. T'gether."

"Hmmm…"

"Ouch! What de hell?"

"Yer innuendo won't work down here."

"Dat's de second time y've hit me wit'out provocation!"

"Big word. Ah'm shocked."

"Y' have anger issues!"

"Ya have all kinds of issues."

"Dat doesn' change de fact dat y' hit me f'r no real reason!"

"Ah did so have a reason. It's _fun_ to hit ya."

"Well, great. Now, if only I were a masochist, we'd have a real relationship going."

"Are ya calling me a sadist?"

"If I say yes, are y' gonna hit me again and prove my point?"

"… Maybe."

"Den I plead de fifth."

"Look, different paths! Let's split up. Yer annoying me."

"What, and leave y' all alone? We don' know what else is down here."

"Probably some bats and rocks."

"Very funny. Dere could be a serial killer or rapist. Or somet'in'."

"Or there could be some bats and rocks."

"Well, 'M not lettin' y' go off by y'rself. Y'll get lost f'rever. Y' don' have amazin' t'ief instincts like _moi_."

"Yer thief instincts can go to hell. We're not going with them again."

"Why not? We can't get any more lost."

"Ah know, but somehow yer thief instincts will lead to just that very thing."

"Well, we gotta choose one way or de ot'er. Jus' standin' here is doin' no good."

"It's burning some calories."

"We'd burn more walkin' anyway."

"Fine, fine. Which way do yer thief instincts suggest we go?"

"Dat way."

"How specific."

"Why're y' goin' de wrong way?"

"Ah told ya, we're not following yer thief instincts anymore. We're going the opposite way."

"We're gonna get lost down here f'rever wit' dat attitude."

"We're probably already lost forever."

"Oh. Well, in dat case, let's walk around naked. Dat's what I do when 'M lost f'rever."

"Do ya want another bruise?"

"What, a warnin' dis time?"

"Sure."

"Aw, t'anks, y're such a sweet- Ow!"

"Still wanna walk around naked?"

"_Oui_. Might as well show off de new battle wounds. Y' know, from y' hittin' _moi_ all de time."

"Yer hopeless."

"We should've followed my t'ief instinct."

"What?"

"We'd've been dere by now, I know it."

"Ah know we would be even more lost, so shut up."

"Make _moi_."

"Do ya really want me to?"

"Not particularly."

"Just so ya know, this is still all yer fault."

"No, it was bad luck."

"Well, the bad luck was also yer fault. But this situation is also due to ya."

"No, it wasn'!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Yeah, okay."

"Don' be sarcastic wit' _moi_!"

"Why? Does it wound yer ego?"

"No!"

"Methinks he doth protest too much."

"Have y' seen my ass? It's a work of art. T'erefore, not'in' can bruise my ego."

"Yer ass is not a work of art."

"Is so."

"Ah've never really noticed it."

"What?"

"Well, Ah don't generally look at people's asses."

"Look at it. Now. De uniform isn' great, but it's still beautiful."

"Eh. Seen better."

"What? Whose?"

"Don't worry 'bout it."

"_Non_! Whose ass is better dan mine? _Whose_?"

"Ah think ya have a complex about that thing."

"Whose?"

"Ah dunno. Probably the majority of the population."

"Y're wrong."

"No, it's really not that great."

"Yes it is!"

"Nope."

"Look at it!"

"No, Ah already did."

"Look at my ass and tell me it's pretty!"

"Stop it!"

"Right now, look!"

"Ah don't want to!"

"It's perfectly sculpted. It's like it was made by de gods!"

"God, someone's not arrogant."

"'M very arrogant. Now look at it and tell me how beautiful it is!"

"No."

"Y're cruel."

"Ya got us lost. After ya made the Sentinel collapse the ground. Where do ya think it went, anyway?"

"Dunno. Maybe de ot'ers didn't fall down here. Maybe dey're still fightin'."

"Ah think ya made us go _deeper_. They will never find us."

"We could backtrack."

"Do ya remember all the turns we took?"

"_Non_, but we could always start trustin' my t'ief's instincts again!"

"Ah would actually like to see daylight again sometime, so no."

"Y' would, an'- wait! Dis is all a ploy! I still want y' t' look at my ass an' tell me it's pretty!"

"No, stop it!"

"Y're cute when y' blush. Dat's beside de point. Look at it."

"Stop! Ah'm startin' to think ya made all that noise specifically so we would get lost down here together and ya could annoy me to death. It was probably Magneto's plan, wasn't it? He's a tricky guy, even though he wears a bucket on his head."

"'M not _dat_ devious."

"Y're right. He wouldn't have trusted ya with such a complicated job."

"I happen t' excel at any task 'M put t'."

"When yer not obsessing about yer ass."

"Well, if y' would just look at it an' tell me how pretty it is, we could drop de subject!"

"Ah'm not going to!"

"But it is! It's a beautiful work of art!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"Is that light up there?"

"Stop tryin' t' change de subject!"

"Ah'm not, idiot, there is actually light."

"… Be that as it may, my ass is still de mos' beautiful t'ing y'll ever lay eyes on."

"Rogue!"

"Remy!"

"Did y' hear somet'in'?"

"Sort of."

"Can they hear us down there?"

"Dunno, Kitty. How did they even get down there?"

"I have no freaking idea, Lance."

"Oi! Remy, mate, what're ya doin'?"

"Pyro, I don't think they can hear us."

"We can hear them."

"Well, like, duh. Their voices are more echo-ey than ours."

"Anyway, _petite_, we need t' get back on subject. Namely, my amazing ass."

"Ya do not have an amazing ass!"

"Do so."

"It isn't anything special!"

"Y're jus' jealous."

"No, Ah'm really not."

"Look at it and tell me it's pretty!"

"No, Remy, stop it!"

"Not until y' say it!"

"Look, Ah'm sure all yer little boyfriends tell ya that, but it's just so they don't have to be the receiver if ya catch my drift."

"'M not gay!"

"Sure."

"We have been over dis. I don' appreciate y'r sarcasm."

"Uh-huh."

"Y'r lettin' y'r jealousy of my well-sculpted buttocks translate int' passive aggressive sarcasm."

"What?"

"_Oui_, y'- Ouch! Stop hittin' me!"

"Stop being an idiot, and Ah might!"

"Y' need t' work on y'r anger issues! _Mon Dieu_."

"Screw ya."

"I bet y'd like dat. Since I have an amazing ass."

"Excuse me?"

"Ow! Stop- ow- hitting me!"

"Then stop talking about yer ass!"

"Ouch! No! Never!"

"Then Ah'm never gonna stop hitting ya!"

"Just admit that my ass is pretty, damn it!"

"No!"

"My t'ief instinct tells me dat y're cruel!"

"Yer thief instincts got us lost forever!"

"Not f'rever! Jus' f'r a really, really long and indefinite amount o' time!"

"Ah hate ya."

"_Oui_. Because y' wish y' had an ass like mine."

"Ah'm going to kill ya!"

"No! My ass is too beautiful, y' can't deprive de world of it!"

"Wait…"

"What? Why aren' y' killin' _moi_? Not dat I mind."

"Do ya hear… laughing?"

"Now dat y' mention it… _Oui_."

"Have you two been enjoying yourselves while the rest of us fought a bunch of Sentinels?"

"Shut it, Alvers!"

"Do y' really t'ink we've been enjoyin' ourselves? Remy t'inks he's got more battle wounds dan anyone up dere."

"Oh God, not the third person again."

"Y' beat it out of Remy, but now it's back!"

"Let's see if Ah can do it again."

"No! Remy's ass is too beautiful to face a beating!"

"Stop talking about yer ass!"

"What about someone's ass?"

"Oh, hey Kurt! Rogue's, like, about to beat up Gambit. I guess they somehow got lost in the caves. They've been talking about Gambit's butt and homosexuality."

"Oh. Go Rogue! Kick his butt!"

"Remy's ass is t' beautiful t' be kicked!"

"That's it! Enough about yer ass!"

"C'mon, Rem, duck and weave!"

"Ouch!"

"See, mate, that's an example of what _not_ to do when ducking and weaving!"

"Shut up, John!"

"Aren't y'all gonna get us out of here?"

"I don't know, _mein schwester_. This is amusing."

"No! Ya can't leave me here with him!"

"Y' know y' love dis Cajun."

"Ah hate ya!"

"Dat statement might be true if it was opposite day!"

"If it _were_ opposite day."

"We're still stuck in dese caves, and y're still worried 'bout Remy's grammar?"

"Basically."

"How did you guys get down there anyway?"

"Well, little Avalanche, Remy and Rogue decided dat fightin' each ot'er was t' tame an' decided t' risk de multitude of serial killers and rapists and other t'ings down here."

"Ya mean some bats and rocks."

"Well, depending on y'r perspective, it could be either. Now shush, Remy's tellin' de story. So, upon decidin' dis, Remy made some loud bangs t' attract de Sentinels. An' Roguey cheerfully stood next t' him. So, when de Sentinels blasted the ground out from under dem, dey fell int' a dark-ish cave and wandered around. Luckily, dey followed Remy's amazing t'ief instincts. Also, Rogue told Remy his ass was beautiful. Or she will anyway."

"Ah am not tellin' ya yer ass is beautiful."

"Nobody rescue us until she does!"

"Remy LeBeau!"

"Say it!"

"No!"

"… Is that Stripes?"

"Oh, hi Mr. Logan. Yep, it sure is!"

"… What are they arguing about?"

"The, like, attractiveness of Gambit's butt. Gambit thinks it's pretty, but Rogue refuses to agree."

"… Okay. I don't really want to know. When this is over, the X-Jet will be waiting."

"No, Logan! Don't leave me with this lunatic!"

"Say Remy has a beautiful ass!"

"No!"

"Say it!"

"Yer ass is ugly! Yer not charmin'!"

"Did he just tackle her?"

"Yeah, Remy's really strange about his ass."

"Get off of me!"

"Not until y' tell Remy it's beautiful."

"No! Rape! Help!"

"We can see that he's not, like, raping you."

"But maybe we should help. I don't want Acolyte scum touching my sister."

"Oi! I take offense to that!"

"Not you. Gambit."

"Oh. Carry on then."

"Kurt, we have to let them get it out of their system. They're both nuts."

"Ah am not! The Cajun is nuts!"

"Now, now, Rogue, y' can't lie. Tell Remy he has de best ass y've ever seen."

"But ya just said Ah couldn't lie!"

"Y're so cruel."

"Okay, Rogue, we're going back to the X-Jet. See you later."

"No! Don't leave me with him!"

"Are you sure it's a good idea to just leave them alone together?"

"Sure, Lance. They'll either kill each other or make out or something."

"What? My sister!"

"What? My Cajun!"

"John… You do know that you don't own him, don't you?"

"…. What?"

"Somebody get me out of this crappy cave!"

"Nobody do it! Say, "Remy, y'r ass sure is pretty!" Remy needs t' hear dose words!"

"No! Ah will not!"

"Okay, for real, can I please go rescue my sister now?"

"Nah, she'll be fine. We'll come back in like an hour."

"No!"

"Dat's right! Now y' have t' give in! Say it!"

"Ah am going to kill y'all when Ah get out of here! Kill ya! Every last one of ya!"

"You know, mates, it might be more prudent to just leave them there for awhile."

"Yeah, yeah, Pyro's right."

"Good point. Bye, sister!"

"Y' shouldn' threaten people when y' want dem t' help y'."

"It works when Ah'm already close enough to make good on the threat."

"Too bad y're in a cave. Now, back t' de subject of Remy's ass…"

**(Just for the record, part of this was inspired by the webcomic Questionable Content, a strip in which Penelope shouts at Faye, "Look at my ass and tell me it's pretty!" Faye replies, "No, stop it." I didn't want to plagiarize, but it fit with Remy once he started talking about his butt that I had to slip it in.)**


	14. Sick Day

**Hello hello! So I know it's been approximately forever and a day since I updated and I am deeply sorry. Buuuut.... I hope this can make it up to you! It's a short one. Let me know whatcha think!**

**Sick Day**

Remy LeBeau found himself frowning.

There was one specific reason for said petulant frown.

Where _was_ she?

It was after nine; though she was not a morning person, Rogue had usually emerged from her room by eight thirty or so. But, as he peered hopefully into the kitchen once again, she was still missing. There was the chance that he had missed her- despite her vehement claim that she disliked acknowledging life before eight, she seemed to wake earlier than him quite frequently.

He wandered off to check her frequent haunts. First, he took a quick trip to the library. There was no sign of his _chere_. Frowning, he set off to the garage to see if she was helping Logan with the cars.

"Seen Rogue t'day?" He asked as he leaned casually against Scooter's car. The cherry red convertible gleamed as he drummed his fingers casually against it.

"No." Logan replied gruffly, eyeing the Cajun's fingerprints on the previously clean car. "You know, the last time someone asked me that _you_ had kidnapped her."

"Oh." Remy blinked. "Bye, den."

He returned to the mansion and peeked into the nearly empty rec room; on a Saturday, very few of the Institute's inhabitants thought it necessary to get up before noon. He then decided to check the Danger Room; he was under the impression that if she ever conducted an illicit affair, it would be with said room.

The room was empty.

Except for Scooter; the team leader seemed to be attempting to train. Remy casually upped the level before slipping out of the observation deck.

Though slightly amused by his little tricks on Summers, he still found himself lacking a certain girlfriend. With a frown, he set off to find her roommate or brother. He checked the kitchen once more; it was, after all, Kurt's favorite room. The room was empty, except for Dr. McCoy, a suspiciously Twinkie-like substance crammed guiltily into the older man's mouth.

"Seen Rogue?" He asked. It was worth a shot. The older man shook his head, and left the kitchen rather quickly. As if Remy didn't already know about Dr. McCoy's secret Twinkie stash. Rolling his eyes, he set off in search once more of his _chere_.

On any other day, he might have checked her room before he had bothered with any of these other places. But, seeing as he had _accidentally_ (or so he had sworn at the time) walked in on her changing just the other day, he was banned from the bedroom until further notice.

He wasn't sure if this was one of the days to test his _chere_'s temper.

He peered once more into the rec room, hoping to see the chipper valley girl. She was, unfortunately, not there.

Sighing, he contented himself to taking over the couch and changing the channel to watch immature children cartoons. It seemed like the best way to pass the time until someone with knowledge of his _chere_'s whereabouts wandered in.

A few moments later, the unpleasant scent of burned hair announced Scott's entrance. He seemed less than pleased, but Remy couldn't be sure. Those sunglasses certainly hid expressions well.

"_Monsieur _Summers, y're not lookin' so hot." The Cajun snickered despite himself.

"Real funny, LeBeau." Scott snapped as he passed through the room.

"Seen Rogue?" He called after him.

Though Scott seemed to think getting food was more important than answering Remy's question, the Prince of Thieves doubted Scooter has seen her anyway. With a sigh of irritation, he flung himself back onto the couch.

When had he become so needy?

He really just wanted to bug her and flirt with her, he told himself. Besides, wasn't it somewhat expected to want to spend time with your girlfriend? He wasn't being _needy_, he was being a good boyfriend!

The cartoons were not a sufficient distraction. He'd never had the ability to idle in front of the TV, unless his _chere_ was curled up in his arms (which had happened maybe once, seeing as she wasn't a very cuddly person).

Discarding the TV as useless, he stood and continued his aimless search for his girlfriend. The library seemed like a good enough guess- Rogue had a tendency to hole up in there for hours. He pushed open the door.

And was met by a furiously blushing Jubilee disentangling herself from an equally red Bobby.

"_Bonjour_." He eyed them in amusement as Jubilee tugged at her ruffled shirt. "De lovebirds seen Rogue?"

"Uh, no, we haven't." Jubilee stammered, too embarrassed to even deny his lovebirds comment.

"T'anks. Back t' what y' were doin', den." He snickered as he shut the door behind him. As a last ditch effort, he decided to peek out back. She sometimes hung out by the fountain or gazebo with a good book, if the weather was nice. A quick search revealed that Ray and Roberto were either closeted homosexuals intent on keeping their secrets with displays of testosterone or ridiculously competitive soccer players (who were probably still closeted homosexuals). This did not, however, aid him in his search for Rogue.

Well.

This meant he _had_ to break his ban on the bedroom. He had tried to be responsible, really, if you looked at it. Technically, he'd checked all her usual haunts before breaking the rules. Wasn't it supposed to just the be the thought that counted? He'd seriously _thought_ about staying away from her room, so he was definitely covered there.

Besides, without Rogue, the mansion wasn't all that fun.

Decision made, he cheerfully made his way to her bedroom. As he lifted his hand to knock gallantly on the door (he wasn't stupid; he knew better than to just bust in like usual when he was already skating on thin ice), Kitty phased through it. They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

"Aren't you, like, banned from the room until further notice?" She demanded in a low voice, her eyebrow raised.

"Um…" He decided the question didn't really need an answer. "Seen Rogue?"

"Yeah, she's, like, in there." Kitty yawned. "Today's not a good day."

"_Pourquoi_?" Remy raised an eyebrow. Despite her claims that she was "very anti-social" and her tendency to keep to herself, he'd noticed a definite decline in "leave-Rogue-alone" days since he'd arrived. He liked to credit himself with that change.

"Headache." Her roommate made a face.

"Oh." He sighed, deflated.

Had it been anyone else, Remy would've laughed at the excuse. But he knew his _chere_; on rare occasion, Rogue locked herself in her room for the majority of the day. This was usually due to an awful migraine brought on by the psyches she'd absorbed. Though Xavier could cleanse her mind, that just made the headache last even longer as her mind healed itself and she dealt with it by keeping to herself and attempting to sleep all day.

"Yeah, I guess it started around like five thirty this morning. She just wants to be alone." Kitty shrugged. "My mission is to find Kurt and warn him before he decides it's time for his sister to get up."

That was probably a good idea. Headache or no, Rogue could still bite off your head.

"_Mercie, chaton._" He sighed. She nodded and phased through the floor, no doubt in search of her teleporting friend. He glanced morosely at the door. Maybe he was the teensiest bit needy.

* * *

She let out a soft groan. The Advil (which, really, hadn't helped all that much anyway) seemed to be wearing off from that morning. She considered briefly going downstairs to take more, but recognized that the noise and light wouldn't be worth it.

She pulled the covers more firmly over her head and massaged her temple.

The psyches were silent now, kept firmly at bay by her mental shields. Her head still throbbed, but the silence was a relief.

She heard the creak of the door.

"Kit, please just go away." She mumbled from under her comforter.

"'S not Kitty." Remy's voice surprised her. "How y' feelin', _chere_?"

"Not so hot. Go 'way."

"C'mon, _chere_, 'M here t' make y' feel better." She pulled the covers from her head. The room was still dark- Kitty had pulled the curtains closed before she left. The throbbing in her temple intensified as she sat up. "Y' gotta eat somet'in'."

"Ah'm not hungry."

"_Chere_, y' can't take medicine on an empty stomach, _oui_? It makes y' nauseous."

"The thought of eating makes me nauseous." She whined, pressing her palm against her forehead. "Please, just go."

"_Non_." He said simply, sitting at the foot of her bed. "Brought y' some tomato soup an' crackers. An' Sprite." He pushed the tray towards her. "Jus' a little, _chere_. It'll help."

"Ah don't wanna." She muttered like a petulant child. Headaches always made her cranky.

Remy smiled at her. "F'r me, den."

Making a dramatic face, she ate a little. He watched her in the dim light.

"Happy now? Go." She sighed.

"I told y', 'M gonna make y' feel better. Ish." He replied, removing the tray. "Take dis medicine, an' I'll be right back."

Though the Cajun was undoubtedly annoying (and, she had to admit, a little bit sweet), she was grateful for the medication. She swallowed the couple of pills easily. He returned in that moment with a cool, damp washcloth.

"Rem, ya can go. Ah'm no fun today." She winced at the pounding in her skull.

"Nah, y're still more fun dan de rest o' dem." He replied. He slipped onto the bed, positioning himself where her pillow was. "_D'accord, chere_. Y' can lay down now."

"In yer lap?" She raised an irritated eyebrow.

"_Oui_."

Her headache must've been a bad one; she didn't argue any further, just lay down. He pressed the cool washcloth to her forehead, recalling the countless times _Tante_ Mattie had done the same for him as a child. He gently massaged her scalp.

"Re-"

"Got on real gloves, _chere_. Go t' sleep."

The room was silent for some time. He wished he could do more than this; he'd learned, over several painful experienced, that her headaches were just something to push through. Her chest rose and fell steadily; for a moment, he believed she was asleep.

"Hey, Rem?" She murmured sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks." She let out a small sigh. "Yer really sweet."

"Someone's gotta take care o' y'." He replied softly. "Might as well be _moi_, right?"

"Ah'm glad it is."

He was, too. He watched in idle amusement as she really did drift off to sleep.

* * *

Kitty glanced warily at the door. She did feel bad for her friend; really, she did. But her trepidation was not unwarranted. Even when she was under the weather, Rogue was a force to be reckoned with and she was far more cantankerous when she didn't feel well. She knew the headaches took a toll on her roommate; she also knew they turned her roommate into a total jerk sometimes.

She pushed her head through the door, deciding to test the waters.

She was surprised by the sight that met her.

Remy was leaning against the headboard, his head hanging as his chest rose and fell steadily. His fingertips twitched in sleep, tangled in Rogue's wild hair. She was sleeping, her head in his lap, a washcloth on her forehead. Kitty spied a tray of half-eaten food on the floor.

She pulled her head free of the door.

It was _too_ adorable!

As she rushed off to tell Jubes and Amara (seriously, how could she keep this to herself? It was so precious!), she found herself wondering why the heck no one had ever done something like that for her.


	15. Autumn

**Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I brought you a present. It's... a superfast update! Surprised? I knew you would be.**

**Autumn**

The air was crisp and clean. The faint scent of sweet smoke, burning in a chiminea, hung in the atmosphere. Colorful leaves, bright reds and yellows and oranges, swirled in little gusts of wind, almost dancing over the cracked pavement. Brown leaves crunched underfoot.

Her hair whipped across her face in the chilly autumn air. The sun shone brightly in the blue sky, cheerful on the sharp day. She was struck, momentarily, by how _right_ the moment felt. She felt him give her gloved a hand a little squeeze, and turned to meet his red-on-black eyes.

"Where are y', _chere_?"

She smiled at him. He was beautiful, so beautiful she felt her heart skip a beat, in the autumn light. He grinned back, a mess of tousled hair and chiseled jaw.

She found herself wishing she could keep that moment in her mind, pristine like a snapshot. The moment was so perfect; its fine edge cut down to the quick and left her with a sharp, bright sting.

"Here and there." She nudged him. "Mostly here."

"Well, 'D certainly hope so." He tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

The park was peaceful. Other couples, so similar and so different from this peculiar set, held hands and kissed in the fall weather. Children's laughter echoed from the edge of the trees, where they leapt into piles of leaves with shrieks of delight. The wind murmured faintly over it all.

"C'mon, let's sit." He pulled her off the worn path into the shadowy edges of trees.

"Yer so lazy." She teased as he tugged her toward a bright pile of leaves. "Ah mean, can't even finish a little ol' wal-"

He cut her off by tugging her hand hard; she tumbled back into the leaves with him, entwined in his firm grasp. As the disturbed leaves settled back into a semblance of peace, she looked up at him. His hair hung in his eyes, and she couldn't read the expression on his face.

"That was nice."

He laughed, a pleasant low baritone, and she felt a little chill run down her spine.

"Y're so sarcastic wit' _moi_."

A flock of birds took flight beyond the park, shifting shapes against the blue sky. She settled more comfortably into the leaves. He shifted to lie more comfortably beside her.

Their fingers were still laced.

She liked the way he felt against her, even through cloth. There was something intimate about their intertwined fingers, something private and yet public, secretive and open. Warmth radiated from his hand.

"Gon' tell _moi_ what y' t'inkin'?" Remy asked after a moment of peace.

"Just 'bout how nice this is." She nudged him gently. "Who'd have thought Ah'd like hangin' out with a lousy Swamp Rat?"

"_Je sais_!" He exclaimed with a grin; she stifled a laugh. "I mean, dese Swamp Rats, dey're very annoyin' from what I hear. Dey always be pesterin' dis beautiful girl, even dough she's mean an' calls it 'stalkin'. Which, by de way, I still object t'."

"Ya _were_ stalking me." She rolled her eyes.

"_Non_, I was… watchin' y'. Secretively."

"Exactly. Stalking."

"_Quoi_?"

"Don't ya 'what' me!" She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at him. A few loose strands of hair fell into her face. "Secretively watching is the same thing as stalking."

"But I couldn' watch y' un-secretively. Y' would've gotten mad at dis _pauvre_ Cajun." He grinned at her. She felt that faint fluttering in her heart again. He was so devastatingly beautiful; she felt plain in comparison. What good had she done to earn him as her own?

For he was _hers_.

"Well, yeah. Maybe ya shouldn't have been watching at all." She pointed out with a faint smirk of her own.

"I fail t' see de logic behind dat decision." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Ya would."

"Hey!" He sat up now. Their lips were centimeters apart; she could feel his warm breath against her face, smelling of spices and tobacco. "Are y' tryin' t' disparage my character?"

"Me?" She raised an eyebrow. "Never!"

"Y're a bad liar." He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. "Don' know why I even put up wit' y'."

"Isn't that my line?" She murmured.

"'M a t'ief. I steal de good t'ings." He chuckled softly. For a moment, she thought he might lean in to kiss her. She cursed the small part of herself that lit up at the mere thought; that was _not_ a good idea.

"Is that so?"

"_Oui_." He surprised her by pulling away from her face. "It is."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Rogue glanced at him; it seemed like just yesterday they were sharing awkward phone conversations, meeting for a very awkward (and infuriating) "date", developing a strange friendship. It seemed as though only minutes had passed since their first kiss.

This perception, of course, was entirely incorrect.

"C'mon." He pushed himself to his feet, brushing the remnants of leaves from his clothes before offering her a hand up.

"Where're we going?"

"Takin' a walk."

"Isn't that we were supposed to be doing, before someone dragged me into a pile of leaves?" She grinned mischievously at him.

"Who would do such a t'ing to such a _belle femme_?" He gasped. "What an insult!"

"Ah dunno." She raised an eyebrow. "As Ah recall, he was a total creeper in a trench coat. After he pulled he in, he proceeded to make sexual jokes, steal candy from babies, and make a general nuisance of himself."

"I t'ink a more accurate description of y'r attacker is tall, dark, an' handsome." He paused. "An' charmin', come t' t'ink of it."

"Anything else? Wouldn't want ya to be too modest or anything." She rolled her eyes.

"_Mais oui_! He was in love wit' de mos' beautiful _femme_ in de world!" He grinned and caught her hand in his own. "An', even t'ough she was mean sometimes, 'M pretty sure she loves him back."

"Are ya now?" She raised an eyebrow, moving closer to him. "Well… Ah wouldn't be so sure…"

His red-on-black eyes caught her emerald orbs; for a moment, she was stunned by the intensity there. She felt herself drawn even closer to his side, mesmerized by the unreadable expression crossing his face. Surprising her once more, he moved away from her.

They walked, still hand-in-hand, down the path. Remy broke the silence.

"Do y' remember when y' met _ma famille_?"

"Nah, Rem, Ah forgot. Ah mean, it was only two weeks ago." She laughed. "'Course Ah remember."

"Well, dey _really_ liked y'." He grinned. "Prob'ly more dan dey like _moi_. _Tante_ Mattie wants us t' come f'r Christmas."

"Well, that'll be fun." She mused. "Logan'll be real happy 'bout that. Do y'all do a formal dinner? Do Ah have to dress up?"

"Y're comin' den?"

"Why wouldn't Ah?" She paused, looking at him. "Rem, why're ya acting so weird?"

"'M not actin' weird!"

"Yeah, ya are." She raised an eyebrow. "Yer… Ah don't have to come. If it makes this… us… too serious." She shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to snap at him, or make a snide comment, anything to make herself less vulnerable.

"_Quoi_? Y' outta y'r mind, woman?" He raised an eyebrow. "Dat's not it at all!"

"Ya sure?" She raised an eyebrow. "Ah mean, Ah know this is different for ya. Since Ah can't touch ya… And, well, Ah know yer sacrificing a lot to be with me, and Ah know serious relationships have never been yer thing-"

"Rogue, dat ain' it." He shook his head. "_Je te promets_."

"Well, then what is it?" She grinned at him, a funny feeling of relief washing over her.

"'M really bad at dis sort of t'ing." He sighed softly to himself. She glanced at him expectantly. "_D'accord_. Rogue, y' know y'r de best t'ing t' ever happen t' _moi_?"

They stopped on the pathway, beneath an oak. Its leaves were cheerful oranges and reds, its gnarled trunk dark. He turned to look at her, his eyes more intense than before. She stared at him.

"Well… Y' are. Y're de mos' amazin' an' beautiful girl I've ever met. Y' make me smile when I don' wanna. When I t'ink of y', I get dis weird feelin' an' I can't even describe it. I just wanna be wit' y'." He chuckled under his breath. "I'd do anyt'in' f'r y'. I don' care dat y' can't touch."

She raised an eyebrow.

"_D'accord, d'accord_. I do wish y' could. But not 'cause of what dat would mean f'r me. 'Cause dat's what y' want, and 'cause of what it would mean f'r _us. Comprenez_? I'll stay wit' y' even if y' never get de ability t' touch." He ran a hand through his hair. "When y' smile, everyt'in' seems okay. An' dis sounds a lot more cliché out loud dan it did in my head."

"Sometimes Ah like cliché." She murmured tentatively. "Rem? What… What are ya-"

"Look, 'M not really sure how t' do dis right." He sighed softly. "But I wanna try. Rogue, y're de mos' important t'ing in my life. I don' wanna lose y'. I want t' be wit' y'. I want us t' look back on all dese problems, years from now, an' laugh. I love y'. I love y' more dan I've loved anyt'in' in my life."

With those words, Remy LeBeau slowly knelt and revealed a small black box.

"Anna Marie Darkholme, will y' marry me?"

She was surprised to feel tears burning in her eyes; she'd never really imagined this day. How could she have known the flush of emotion that would accompany it? She didn't cry- usually. This was… entirely different.

"Oh Rem." She breathed out softly. Her voice cracked. "Ah… Of course Ah'll marry ya. Ah love ya!" He slipped the glove off her left hand, and carefully pushed the shimmering ring onto her finger. He then stood, and took her face in his hands.

"_Merci, mon coeur_." His lips pressed against her own, soft and sweet. She slipped her fingers into his hair as she returned the kiss enthusiastically. She pulled away as she felt the strengthening of his psyche in her mind.

"Dis is why y' were actin' so strange?" She grinned at her woozy fiancé, gifted with his accent.

"Well, _oui_. It's not every day y' ask a girl t' marry y'." He grinned at her. "An' y' were such a distraction. I jus' wanted t' kiss y', but den y would've seen what I was plannin'."

"Sneaky." She grinned. "Rem, are y' sure y' wanna give me dis ring? It's been in y'r family f'r so long…"

"An' it's only fittin' it should go t' y' now." He grinned. "Why do y' t'ink we met up wit' dem? Had t' get de ring from _mon pere_."

"And he was okay with this?"

"He was thrilled." He shook his head. "Turns out he an' _ma famille_ have been placin' bets on us since he met y' in N'Awlins."

"Bets?"

"De first one was on whether or not we'd end up t'gether." He laughed despite himself. "De next was how long it'd last. De last was when de hell 'D get 'round t' proposin'. After dey met y', I was informed several different ways dat I'd better not screw up, seein' as dey all adore y'."

"Well, that's a relief. Too bad ya've got my family to deal with." She said gleefully.

"Y' don' sound dat sad _pour moi_." He noted with a wry grin.

"Are ya kidding? Consider this payback for the last time ya stole all my clothes while Ah was in the shower."

"Dat was funny."

"And it'll be real funny when ya have to tell Logan he'll be walkin' me down the aisle." She smirked.

"_Merde_."

"Ah'll attempt to protect ya."

"From Logan?"

"Well, yeah. He'll be easier than Kitty."

"Kitty?" Remy looked puzzled.

"Yeah." Rogue laughed. "Think about it, Rem. When she finds out ya proposed to me without telling her, she'll be pissed. She'll be even more mad that ya didn't do it in some huge, embarrassing way- which Ah appreciate, by the way."

"Knew y' would." He sighed. "She's gonna kill _moi_."

"Nah. Ah'll just time my request to have her as maid-of-honor conveniently before she can kill ya."

"Good plan." He smiled at her. "So, we're really doin' it. Gettin' married."

"Unless ya were joking when ya proposed like… three minutes ago, Ah'd say yes." She grinned.

"Huh." He raised an eyebrow. "Funny t'ing is, I can't wait."

As they completed their walk, still hand-in-hand, Rogue found herself feeling exactly the same way.


	16. Ten Kisses

**Hey! I hope you enjoy this one. It shows ten kisses shared by Rogue and Remy. Review and lemme know please! **

**Ten Kisses**

**I.**

Their first kiss could hardly be called a kiss.

Remy backed away from her. Her half-lidded eyes studied him carefully as she stepped toward him, her bare hand outstretched. At any other time, he might have admired the way her torn clothes complimented her figure; now, he was merely eyeing that pale hand.

"Who's behind it? Mystique?" He demanded, leaping up onto a wooden crate. "I t'ink so; question is, why?" He eyed her carefully, spinning the bo staff in his hand. She lifted him with borrowed telekinesis, tossing him easily into the wall and to the floor.

"See if ya can guess." She leapt at him; he pushed her off with the bo staff, and flipped back up to his feet. As he caught his bearings, he realized he had no idea where the southern belle had gone.

He turned- and there she was, her lifeless eyes surveying him as they might an interesting insect or something far less pleasing. A little smirk planted itself on her face; in that brief moment of pause, she pressed her lips to his.

As he moaned and collapsed to the ground, his last thought was one of surprise: he wondered if she took out all the handsome Cajuns that way.

**II.**

Their second kiss wasn't really much of a kiss either.

Though he was the one to steal it this time.

He was surprised by the silence inside the Blackbird; he had always assumed the jet would be as loud near the engines as any other. But the interior was nearly silent; he could hear the muted and whispered conversations around him. He sat with Piotr, feeling rather out of place.

He could see little clusters of people; none but some of the original X-Men opted for the actual seats, but instead sat on the floor and against the metallic walls. Clearly, this bothered no one. Magneto sat with his children, looking about as stunned as they did. Scott and Jean sat in the front, flying with the older X-Men. Havok stood near his brother. Rogue and Kurt were sitting together, speaking in voices too low for him to hear.

The others- as in the New Recruits, Kitty, the Brotherhood, Storm, and Spyke- were in the helicopter flying at a close range.

He glanced at his silent comrade.

With a shrug, he got to his feet and sauntered to Rogue and Kurt. He wondered if their tentative friendship from New Orleans still held.

"_Chere_, dat was real brave." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not really."

"_Non_, it was." He settled next to her, despite her obvious discomfort.

"He is right." Kurt agreed grudgingly, shoot the Acolyte an annoyed glance.

She ignored them, choosing instead to glance out the window. "It's just hard to believe it's all over now. Ah mean, we've been fighting this for so long."

"Hopefully, we'll get a nice, long break, _ja_?" Kurt offered hopefully.

"Doubt it." Remy snickered. "Remy'll let y' get back t' bondin'. Oh, an' _chere_?"

"What?" She looked at him. He swooped down and placed a light peck on her lips.

"Payback." He said woozily at her outraged expression. "Y' did it t' me. Technically."

With that he sauntered away.

**III.**

Their third kiss was technically not even a kiss.

He had joined the Institute three weeks prior. Surprisingly, they had formed an easy friendship quickly, bonding over Southern food and a similar sense of humor (they both found it hilarious when bad things happened to the younger students, particularly if the Danger Room was involved).

She was thumbing through a book on the couch, and he was sitting in front of her, watching the news on a low volume. It was quiet; being Easter weekend, they were some of the only students still in the mansion.

"What're y' doin' t'night, _chere_?" He asked, surprising himself. She looked up from her novel.

"It's a Saturday night, so Ah have limitless options." She smirked. "Maybe Ah'll read some more. Or hole up in my room. Or, if Ah'm feeling really crazy, Ah'll watch a movie."

"Aren' y' de party animal?" He rolled his eyes. "Well, y' know what's better dan all o' dose t'ings?"

"What?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Y' could go out t' dinner wit' _moi_. An' den we could rent horror movies, and celebrate Easter by watchin' some cheerleader get decapitated."

A smile tugged at her lips.

"That does seem like the best way to celebrate Jesus' resurrection."

"Dat's what 'M sayin'. So, dinner 'round… seven?"

"Sure." She shrugged, settling back into the couch. His jaw hung slack for just a moment in surprise; did she actually just agree? No teasing, no fighting? Just an agreement?

"Close yer mouth." She instructed him.

"_Oui_." He stood up. "See y' t'night, _chere_." And then, without really thinking about it, he planted a light kiss on the crown of her head.

**IV.**

Their fourth kiss was a short, sweet ordeal.

They shifted easily into this new, undefined relationship. Neither admitted to any commitment; neither made a comment when Remy stopped going on other dates. Rogue said nothing when Remy started getting home before ten most night; Remy said nothing when Rogue began to wear brighter colors, spend more time out (and with him).

Whatever they had didn't need definition.

Not that that stopped all the others from speculating. Most people were under the impression that one pined dramatically for the other, whilst the other focused on someone else. Some people assumed it was Rogue, wistfully wishing for Remy to sweep her off her feet while Remy slept around. Others insisted that Remy, having fallen for the resident southern belle, watched her while Rogue continued to harbor that old crush on Scott Summers.

And then there were the few who believed with certainty that they were dating in secret.

Kitty Pryde was among this select group, and had made it her hobby to spy on them any chance she got. The idea that her room mate and best friend had a secret boyfriend was all too exciting for her to just ignore.

It was just so hard to catch them in the act.

They never held hands when they went out together. They never kissed, as far as she knew. Often, she'd end up spying on a loud, messy fight than the romantic liaison she always hoped for.

But she kept faith.

Surprisingly, it was completely by chance that she walked into that particular situation. She sighed as she glanced at the heavy library doors. Stupid power outages. Stupid generators that only worked in the Danger Room. Stupid Ray, who was too mad at her to charge up her laptop (hey, how was she supposed to know the girl he'd been chatting up was someone he was interested in?).

She _hated_ using the library for her homework. Xavier had multitudes of books, so many that she was certain he could never have read them all. And, lucky her, she needed to sift through his enormous collection on genetics for Biology.

She phased into the room, and was surprised by the murmur of low voices and the faint candlelight.

She crept through the shelves of books, trying to keep silent. Finally, she found an optimum position to spy and phased into the bookshelf.

Remy's legs were stretched casually over Rogue's. The latter leaned against a shelf, an open (and untouched) novel in her lap. Remy was laying on the ground, looking at the ceiling. The candlelight flickered off the old spines.

"… dunno what t' t'ink, y' know? I don' wanna jus' f'rget it, _mais_ I know _mon pere_."

"Ya really think Ah'm the best one to give ya advice about this?" Rogue raised an eyebrow, resting her gloves hands easily on his shins. "Ah mean, look at my track record."

"Good point." He grinned at her. "But, really. I mean, he's used _moi_. But… dat's what y've gotta do in dat _famille_, use y'r assets."

"Ah really dunno what to say, Rem. Ah don't know him like you."

"_Oui_, y' do. Y' seen my thoughts."

"Ah didn't absorb those memories. It was pretty brief contact." She made a face, and he laughed.

"Well, in de name of y' helpin' me wit' my problem…" He sat up, and pulled his legs off of hers. They faced one another, both sitting on their knees. Kitty felt her pulse quicken as a stab of guilt shot through her; she really was witnessing a super private moment.

But that insatiable need to see kept her rooted to the spot.

Slowly and carefully, Remy cupped her face between his palms. Rogue's eyes were wide as he gazed at her intently. They moved closer, their hearts pounding in unison.

And then, very gently, his lips met hers.

The kiss lasted a few long moments; his lips moved softly against her own. He fell backwards after a moment, breathing heavily.

"Y' alright?" Rogue asked, her voice tainted with his accent.

"_Oui, ma chere_." He nodded woozily, pushing himself up on one elbow. "'M great."

And somehow, after that, they forgot to talk about his problem at all.

Kitty darted out of the library, sans book. She was right! She couldn't wait to shove it in everyone's faces- oh wait.

She probably had to keep that a secret.

Crestfallen, she dragged herself up to her room. She _hated_ keeping secrets.

**V.**

Their fifth kiss was the last time either of them kept count.

They were flying back in the X-Jet. The tension was thick in the air; the silence heavy. Finally, Remy broke it.

"Rogue, y're an idiot." He spat at her. She turned around in her seat to glare at him.

"Can it, Swamp Rat. Ah don't remember asking yer opinion."

"Well, 'M gonna give it anyway." He replied nastily.

Wisely, the others kept quiet and pretended to be occupied by looking out the window or studying the pattern on the seats in front of them.

"Like yer one to talk." She hissed. "Ya do stupid stuff all the time, and Ah don't yell at ya about it."

"I don' do t'ings dat could get me killed!"

"Ah can take care of myself!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ah had everything under control."

"Dat Sentinel almost had y'!" His voice rose. "Sorry, dat don' sound 'under control' t' _moi_. What de hell was dat about?"

"Nothing." She snapped defensively, whipping back to sit properly in her seat. She crossed her arms. "Don't talk to me."

"Y' didn' even have a useful power absorbed!" He fumed. "It's a real good idea t' just go runnin' at a huge machine with not'in' but y'r bare hands. Really. Y're lucky y' only got a few cuts."

"Shut up!" She snarled, glaring at him. "It doesn't matter, 'cause everything's fine!"

"Dat t'ing almost killed y'." He repeated furiously. "Do y' have _any_ idea how scary it was, t' see y' drop like dat?"

Kurt winced; he had been terrified, too. The ray had zapped his sister, and she had fallen to the ground. It had almost crushed her with its foot, and would have if Logan hadn't grabbed her.

"Yes, Ah do. But Ah think yer overreacting and acting like a total guy!"

"I _am_ a guy."

"An asshole, then."

"Well, some people t'ink 'M an asshole."

She ignored him, fuming.

"I dunno why _y're_ mad at _moi_."

"Because yer being annoying."

"I was worried." He unbuckled, and bent beside her seat. He still sounded pissed off. "Dat was really reckless. Y' always do stuff like dat on missions. Y' need t' take y'r personal safety more seriously."

"Ya need to stop lecturing me. Talk about the pot callin' the kettle black." She glared at him.

"Dis is useless." He sighed in irritation. "Y're too stubborn f'r y'r own good, y' know dat?"

"Ah think Ah don't even need to point out the hypocrisy of that statement." She raised an eyebrow.

"Dis isn' a joke!" He snapped. "Y' need t' be more careful, Rogue."

"Well, Ah wouldn't have even done that if ya were watching yer own back." She spat. "That thing was about to shoot ya with that stupid green goop, an' ya were too busy running around like an idiot to notice."

An awkward silence followed this statement. They stared at one another.

"'M confused. Why exactly are we mad?"

"Ah'm mad 'cause yer being irrational. And mad at me fer no good reason."

"No good reason? Y' could've died! I just want y' t' be less reckless!"

"Okay, you were both worried. We get it! Like, kiss and make up. This is the stupidest fight I've ever heard in my life." Kitty exploded. Both Southerners stared at her in surprise.

"She's a li'l bit right, _chere_." Remy admitted after a moment. "Dis is a really stupid fight."

"Yer only just figuring that out?" Rogue demanded in exasperation. He laughed, and bent down to place a soft kiss on her lips.

"Jus' don' scare me like dat anymore."

He stumbled dizzily to sit down, ignoring the burning blush on Rogue's cheeks or the curious, and accusatory, stares from the other passengers.

**VI.**

"What are they doing in there?"

"I really don't know."

Jean and Scott exchanged a curious glance as yet another crash echoed from behind the closed doors. Nodding at his girlfriend, Scott knocked on the door.

Rogue opened it wide enough to stick her head out.

"Ya can't come in yet." She informed him, her green eyes innocent and wide. A white dusting of flour was sprinkled in her hair.

"Is everything okay in there?" Scott tried to peer around her, but she blocked his way.

"Yep. We're fine. Don't worry." Behind her, something else crashed. "Remy, ya suck at keeping yer balance."

"Den don' be crackin' eggs on de floor, woman!" A disgruntled Cajun voice drifted out of the locked-down kitchen.

"As ya can tell, we're very busy. So don't bother us again." With that, Rogue shut and locked the door once more. Scott stared at it. It was hard to believe this was the recluse he'd lived with for over a year; in the past year, she had opened up considerably. And now she would graduate in just a few months.

He went back to sit on the couch with Jean. "You know, I think we really don't want to know."

He was, in a way, right. The kitchen was practically a disaster zone. Remy glanced at the baguettes in the oven while Rogue rinsed rice for the jambalaya. Both were smeared in various ingredients of their Southern dinner.

"'M puttin' de biscuits in de oven." He announced.

"Rice is ready for cooking." She replied, putting the pot on the stove. They surveyed the disaster. "Ah wonder if we can get out of cleaning, since we did the cooking."

"I seriously doubt it, _chere_."

They began to work on other parts of the meal; when feeding the equivalent of a small army (especially considering some of the appetites around there), one could never be over prepared.

They sang together while they cooked, her voice mingling sweetly with his own. They sang songs Remy had heard growing up, tunes they'd both known since birth.

Their singing was accompanied (and often interrupted) by the crashing of bowls to the floor, or the occasional yelp as one of them gave into an immature urge and threw something at the other. Another knock met them.

"Can we help y'?" Remy stuck his head out this time. He was covered in all sorts of mess; behind him, Rogue let out a surprised yelp as a little hot oil popped onto her skin from the frying chicken.

"You sure everything's okay in there?" Scott, this time accompanied by Jean, looked worried.

"F'r de most part." He shrugged. "Don' worry, it'll be fine. Now shoo."

With that, he closed and locked the door once more. As he turned back, he slipped in a puddle of water (when they had washed a few dishes, they got carried away in spraying one another). As he fell, he grabbed Rogue's sleeve, and took her down with him.

They collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor, her trapped beneath him.

"Get off. Yer fat." She informed him with a wicked smirk.

"Am not." He replied indignantly.

"Are so."

"Y're rude."

For some reason, she was beautiful to him in that moment. Flour powdered her hair and clung to the ends of her eyelashes; spices were smeared across her face. Her face was mostly clean of makeup. Her emerald eyes sparkled.

Without another thought, he kissed her.

When he woke up, the kitchen was mostly cleaned up, and the food set out onto plates, still steaming.

"'Bout time ya got up." She rolled her eyes, grinning at him. "Ah thought Ah'd have to prop ya up at the table, and tell 'em how you've been hittin' the bottle again."

"Real cute." He grinned at her as he got to his feet. "Dat was jus' a ploy t' make y' do all the cleanin'."

"Aren't ya sweet?" She rolled her eyes. "Ya have to set the table. Chop chop."

With a melodramatic sigh, he did as he was told.

**VII.**

It was funny, how his enemies had become his friends. Even Scott, it seemed, had grown to accept him (though the team leader had taken his time). He glanced at the enormous cake on the table. Birthdays were always a "big deal" at the Institute, and the cakes had to be huge to feed all of them.

He glanced at Rogue, sitting at his right side with a self-satisfied smirk. Clearly, she was the culprit behind this little shindig. As far as he knew, she and Xavier were the only ones privy to the date of his birth.

Not that he minded so much; he'd always enjoyed being the center of attention, even for something so stupid. And he'd received quite a few gifts (though they all seemed to think he wanted yet another new pack of cards).

"So, you can actually drink." Kitty pointed out. "Well, like, legally, anyway. Must be a bummer. We all know you would, like, rather break the law." A few snickers broke out down the table.

"Eh, didn' really feel like breakin' de law." Remy shrugged. Rogue grinned.

"Remy doesn't actually understand what the term 'the law' means, Kit."

"Don' be rude! It's my birthday!" He made a face at her, and she laughed.

"But birthdays are the best days for rudeness." She teased gently.

"Y're real cute, _chere_." He rolled his eyes at her.

The evening passed quickly; it was nice. Even Logan, who held it against him that he was dating Rogue, managed to be rather civil. The night ended around eleven thirty, when all the little school kids needed go to bed. Jean and Scott excused themselves, leaving just Rogue and Remy curled up in the den.

"Notice something?"

"Hmm?" Remy looked t her. "What'm I supposed t' notice?"

She laughed. "Didn't ya notice Ah haven't given ya a gift?"

"I assumed y' gave me de suggestive cards." He pointed to a rather graphic set, a gift from Bobby, with a grin.

"Real funny." She made a face. "Ah do have something for ya."

"Oh?"

She seemed almost nervous; she shifted closer to him and very gently cupped his face in one palm. "Ready?" Before he could answer, she kissed him.

It took a few moments before he realized what was different- he didn't feel the familiar tug on his consciousness. He pulled back, to stare at her.

"Surprised?" She stared at him.

"Jus' a bit." He kissed her again, harder, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her hands tangled in his hair. After a few moments, she broke free.

"Happy birthday, Rem. Ah love ya." She glanced at him apprehensively.

"Love y', too, _chere_." He touched her cheek gently. "T'anks."

"See ya in the morning." She planted another firm kiss on his lips, and sauntered up to her room.

**VIII.**

She looked in the mirror. A frightened, but beautiful, girl stared back. She adjusted the veil, checking her simply white dress for any creases.

"You look fine, Stripes." Logan's gruff voice surprised her from the doorway. "Actually, you look beautiful. Gumbo's a lucky man."

"Thanks, Logan." She turned to offer him a shaky smile.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah." She admitted with a little frown. "Not about marrying Remy- that's right. But so much could go wrong. What if Bella shows up? Or someone protests?"

"I'll gut anyone who messes this up for you, Stripes." Logan glanced at her, his voice gruff.

"Thanks, Logan." She was surprised to feel her eyes welling with tears. A part of her wanted to call the whole thing off, so nothing would change. "Ah… Ah know Ah've been a real brat sometimes." They both chuckled a little. "And Ah know Ah've caused some trouble. But… Ah love ya, Logan. Yer the closest thing Ah've ever had to a father." She embraced him tightly. "Thank ya, so much."

"Love you, too, kid." He muttered gruffly, making a sound that sounded suspiciously like sniffing. "Don't get all emotional, yer mascara will run or some shit like that." She was startled into laughing. "Now, if we keep ol' Gumbo waiting any longer, he'll probably think ya left him. That is still an option, you know." He eyed her critically.

"Real funny, Logan. Ready to give me away?" She smiled at him.

"Not particularly. Let's go."

They stood behind the doors at the end of the aisle. Kitty, Jean, and Wanda stood behind her, acting as bridesmaids. The doors swung open, and the organ music began. Remy gave her a crooked smile from the altar, and her nerves dissipated. She slipped her arm into Logan's, and started down the aisle.

When she arrived at Remy's side, she gave Logan a brief hug, and turned to face the priest. It was a traditional wedding; neither felt the need to come up with vows. She knew the extent of his love for her, and he knew her own. Nothing else mattered; they didn't need to put on a show for the world.

"Ah do."

The ring slipped onto her left finger. She could have sworn she heard Mystique give a small sniffle.

"You may now kiss the bride."

As she looked at her smiling husband, she felt no apprehension. She could see their future stretching before them, bright, happy. There would be hard times, but it was alright: she would always have Remy LeBeau.

She would always be Mrs. Remy LeBeau.

And, with that thought, they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

**IX.**

The steady beep was more a relief than an annoyance. He could hear her raspy breathing, in and out. He could hear the scuff of the nurse's shoes in the hall. He could hear the murmured tones of Moira MacTaggart, Xavier, and a few others.

She was pale on the bed. Her eyes were closed. He could believe, for just a moment, that she was peaceful. His hand tightened around her own. He could hold out, for another day.

She had more than another day.

"Remy, could you come out here please?" Moira asked gently. Wordlessly, he did as he was asked. He tried to think of the last time he shaved- sometime last week. Last time he had eaten? Yesterday, maybe?

In short, he was a wreck.

"What?" He was short. Kurt glanced at him, and squeezed his shoulder before going in to see his sister.

"The virus is worse." She admitted without preamble. "I'm sorry, Remy, but I don't think she's going to make it. We don't have enough information, and she's too ill. We've managed to contain the contagion, so you won't catch it… But it doesn't look good."

"How long?" He was surprised by how hoarse his voice was.

"We're talking days." She touched his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He felt dizzy. He had known it was coming; when Rogue had contracted the Legacy Virus, they'd both known she was probably going to die. She had made a joke of it at first, ignoring the worry that gnawed at both of their hearts. She'd lasted a good three years since infection.

He had known it was coming.

It hurt.

He wanted a cigarette. He wanted a drink. He wanted to wake up from this bad dream, shake her awake and tell her he loved her.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"T'anks, anyway, Doc." He mumbled softly. Tears already pricked at his eyes. Days. Not a couple of weeks. Not even a week. Days. She was rarely lucid these days, in agony when she was. He hated seeing her this way.

Maybe she'd be better off.

But he wouldn't be.

"How ya doin', Gumbo?" Logan looked at him as Moira and Xavier left them.

"This can't be happenin'." He shook his head.

"It's tough. She's… She's something special." The older man's voice was throaty. "Raven's coming tomorrow."

The two men stood in silence. Remy felt tears dripping down his face, but did nothing to stop them. He thought of their vows. 'Til Death do us part. He couldn't stop loving her, merely because death was soon to part them.

The days passed more quickly than he'd have liked. He was glued to her side. It felt like everything happened in a blur, the people and things moving around him. Raven came; she cried. Rogue was awake; she cried, too. Kitty came, with Jean. The old Brotherhood boys dropped by. Kurt and Logan became nearly permanent fixtures in the room or the hallway.

He left at one point; when Xavier went in to say goodbye. He could hear his wife sobbing softly, thanking the older man for everything he'd done. He couldn't be there when she said these goodbyes, to her surrogate (and, in Kurt's case, real) family.

Three days after Moira's dire prediction, Rogue grasped his hand tightly.

"Remy, Ah love ya."

"I love y', too." He murmured.

"You've been everything to me for so long." He looked at her. She was dry-eyed, at the moment. She was pale and drawn, too thin. Her voice was soft and throaty. "Yer still my everything. Ah don't know how to say good bye to ya. Because Ah don't want this to end."

"I don' either, _chere_." He pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Y're de best t'ing dat ever happened t' _moi_. Wit'out y', dere's not'in' f'r me."

"Oh, Rem." She breathed out softly.

He felt tears streaking down his cheeks. He gripped her hand tighter.

"Ya remember the first time we kissed?" She murmured aloud.

"Better dan y' do, _chere_." His voice shook. "Y' only remember de second."

She laughed weakly; his heart broke.

"And our first date?"

"De horror movies on Easter." He tried to grin; he felt like his face was splitting in half.

"'Member when Ah met yer family? For real?"

"_Tante_ Mattie adored y'."

"Remy, Ah'm not done." She looked at him, and he saw she was struggling not to cry. "Ah'm not done havin' dates an' kissin' an' bein' with ya. Ah don't want this to be it."

"Me neither."

They sat together, crying, trying to pretend this wasn't the last time they would converse like this.

"D-Do y' remember my twenty-first birthday?"

"Yeah."

"Second happiest day of my life. De first is de day we got married."

"'Member all those times Ah called ya Swamp Rat?" She asked softly.

"_Oui_?"

"Ah'm still not sorry."

He grinned at her.

"_Chere_, 'M not done either."

"Ah'm so scared." She admitted softly, squeezing his hand weakly. "Ah'm not ready. Ah can't do anything to stop it."

"I'll be right here, _chere_." He told her softly, holding her hand. "And, den, when it's my turn, I'll come find y'. Y'll always be here, wit' _moi_."

She cried softly for some time; he climbed into the bed and held her. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy.

"Ah love ya." She seemed exhausted, and ill. "So much. Don't forget that."

"I love y', _chere_." He wanted to tell her it would be okay, but he couldn't lie. He wanted to say he would be there with her, but he couldn't follow her where she was going. Instead, they clung to one another as if there was nothing else in the world.

"There's so much Ah want to tell ya, to say to ya." She mumbled into his chest.

"I already know it all, _chere_. S'okay."

And he did.

"Good night, Rem." She mumbled sleepily.

"Night, Marie." He kissed her.

It was the last time.

That night, she went into a coma.

The next morning, her heart was no longer beating.

And, in the end, nothing else mattered.

**X.**

"Hey, Remy."

"_Bonjour_, Kurt. Where's ol' Wolverine?"

"He went ahead." The blue boy pointed a finger up the hill to the lone figure by a gravestone.

This was the third time they'd all met like this, on the anniversary of her death. He didn't know how often the others went; he came all the time. On her birthday, on his, on special holidays, when he missed her so much he couldn't stand it (which was pretty often).

Logan came down, refusing to meet the other two's eyes. Grief was a very private thing. That night, they'd all drink and tell stories about her and laugh and cry (but never admit it).

Kurt disappeared in a puff of smoke, and reappeared at the top of the hill. He would take some time, talking to his sister. Remy waited patiently. When the blue mutant reappeared next to him, he walked up.

The gravestone was simple, pretty. It didn't have her real name; she wouldn't have liked that. He sat next to it.

"_Bonjour, chere_. I miss y'. Still. Every day. It's hard." He looked at the gray tombstone. "Y'd be real proud o' me, helpin' de X-Men an' everyt'in'." He brushed his fingers over the cold stone. "I love y'."

He could think of nothing else to say to the stone; she couldn't hear him, anyway.

He wanted to stay near her, forever. He wanted to be with her.

He wanted to kiss her again.

Instead, he brushed his lips over the red rose in his hand and gently placed it on her grave.


	17. Strip Poker

**So, I'm willing to bet you never really thought I'd update this story. And I didn't either. The past couple of years have been interesting, to say the least, and I haven't been writing due to some really crappy stuff in my personal life. However, when the urge to pick this up again hit me, I decided to try. I'd love for you to let me know what you think. If not, no big deal. Enjoy! I don't know when or if I'll update this story again. But I'm glad to have written at least one more one-shot. **

**Strip Poker**

"So y're tryin' t' convince me dat y' can beat me at poker?"

"Ah don't need to convince ya." She gave him a cocky grin, her green eyes flashing in amusement. "Ah'll prove it."

"Mm, I like a challenge." He purred, moving closer with a grin of his own. "Y' shouldn' challenge dis man, Roguey. Not when de stakes are so high."

"Bring it on, Swamp Rat." She tilted her face so their lips were nearly touching. He could feel her breath warm on his lips. "Ah'm not scared of ya."

"Think I already figured dat out." He replied, reluctantly pulling away to pull out a deck of cards. "Y're still makin' a mistake, River Rat. Not dat I mind. Y'r loss is my gain."

"Yer just actin' cocky 'cause ya don't wanna lose that precious trenchcoat of yers." She leaned back in her chair with a smirk.

Remy LeBeau raised an eyebrow at her. Just a few years ago, the girl known only as Rogue wouldn't speak a word to him. And now they were sneaking away to hotel rooms to play strip poker.

Not that he minded, of course.

"Deal 'em, Swamp Rat." She took a lazy sip of her bourbon. God, he loved a girl that could drink.

"Y' trust _moi_? I might stack de deck." He winked at her. "Gotta say, hope y're wearin' de red ensemble. Y' know it's dis Cajun's favorite."

"Why don't ya wait and see?" She rolled her eyes at his impatience.

He dealt the cards swiftly, grinning at each win and easily shrugging off each loss (literally - he liked to lose the top half of his clothing first in these games). Perhaps theirs was a strange relationship. They met often in private, away from their respective groups. It had taken him five months, after the Apocalypse incident, to convince her to meet for coffee. It had taken another two to convince her to come to dinner. By the time he convinced her to kiss him, they had been on speaking terms for nearly a year. He remembered the day she gained control of her powers – the day, in fact, she suggested the first of their many games.

And the day he first made love to the woman he couldn't get out of his mind.

"Ya know, Ah think Ah'm coming out ahead this time." She grinned at him mischievously, handing him her shirt with no chagrin. It was hardly a concession, considering he was had lost his trenchcoat, shirt, and both socks.

"F'r now. I like t' let y' t'ink y're winnin' and den steal it all." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Remy LeBeau, ya would never let me win. Yer too conceited." She pointed out.

"Dat's just what I want y' t' t'ink. Dat way, y' trust _moi_ and I get t' steal all y'r clothes."

She couldn't help but grin as she rolled her eyes. She knew at some point their clandestine meetings would be discovered- she was surprised she'd managed to keep their relationship under wraps for a year and a half, considering the gossip mill at the Xavier Institute. Perhaps her private nature played in her favor, especially now that they were all out of school.

A few hands left them both in the bare minimum, though neither seemed to terribly mind. This was the fun part, after all, toying with one another.

"One hand left, and ya lose." She gloated with a smirk.

"Y' only have _deux_ until y' lose, River Rat." He countered. "An' I never lose when de stakes are dis high."

"Ah can think of one or two occasions where ya did just that." She pointed out cheerfully, draining the last of her drink. He opened his mouth to reply-

BOOM.

Both jumped up at the sound of an explosion and exchanged a nervous look. While neither was exactly a stranger to such events- membership in either the X-Men or the Acolytes led to a regular occurrence of explosions- this was not a welcome interruption to their secret tryst.

"What was tha-" Rogue began but was interrupted by the ground shaking. Cracks ran down the wall, and dust rained from the ceiling onto their heads.

"If dat's Avalanche, he is de king of cockblocking." Remy gritted his teeth.

"We're fifteen miles outta Bayville, why would that be Lance?" Rogue countered with a frown. "Should we go out there?"

"_Non_." He shook his head. "If we go out dere, we have t' help fix de problem. An' dis is my night off."

"Maybe it's over?" She suggested hopefully.

"_Oui_, 'cause we tend t' have dat kind o' luck." He rolled his eyes as a second earthquake rocked the room. It was followed by a second series of explosions and loud voices began to fill the hallway.

"Let's get dressed-" Rogue reached for her clothes as the door burst open. A wrestling Logan and Sabretooth tumbled into the room.

"_Merde_." Remy groaned.

"What the hell- Stripes?" Logan shoved the other man to the ground and glared at the young woman in front of him. "Where are your clothes?"

"On the floor." She answered defiantly, trying to quell the fire burning in her cheeks. "Ah'm occupied."

"Gambit?" Sabretooth stared at his teammate, momentarily forgetting his rival.

"_Bonjour_." Remy replied irritably.

"Wolverine, I've got your-" Hank burst into the room, clearly planning to help his friend in the fight against his adversary. "Oh my. I- Well, Rogue this certainly- What exactly is going on here?"

She didn't answer, but Remy noted her cheeks burned darker, if such a thing were possible. This would have been far more amusing if they were perhaps more clothed. And if Logan didn't have such sharp claws.

"I t'ink it would be a good idea if everyone left. An' we got dressed. An' den we all talked about dis like rational adults." Remy offered a weak grin to his (secret) girlfriend's only father figure. "Preferably wit'out guttin' anyone."

"I don't think so, Gumbo." Logan snarled, extending the claws on both hands. "What the hell is going on here? Did you drug her or something? Huh, bub?"

"Nobody drugged anyone." Rogue snapped. "Can ya pleased leave so Ah can get dressed? If ya didn't notice, this is really awkward."

"Did you just forget there's a fight going on out here, mate?" Pyro stormed in. "Oh, hiya Rem! I thought ya had some kinda family emergency!"

"Yep. Dat's what I said. T' get outta de base." Remy groaned.

"Why are ya naked? Don't ya know we're fighting the X-Men out here?" His friend raised an eyebrow, and then zeroed in on Rogue. "Oi! There's a naked X-Sheila too!"

"Is he always so observant?" Rogue glared at Remy, as if this were somehow his doing.

"Pyro, stop running off!" Pietro zipped into the room.

"Jesus Christ, is everyone here?" Rogue groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"Rogue?" The speed demon's jaw dropped. "Why are you-"

"She's not." Remy snapped, snatching the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around his girlfriend to cover her. "Okay. Y're all supposed t' be fightin' out dere. So get back t' dat and we'll just leave an' pretend none o' dis ever happened."

"Mystique is not going to be happy about this." Pietro grinned. "I can't believe you're doing the dirty with Gambit."

Logan's eyes widened, as if he hadn't made this connection.

"_Merci,_ Quicksilver. Dat's exactly what we needed t' hear right now." Remy glared at him.

"Wait till Colossus hears 'bout this, mate!" Pyro grinned. "Ya can't give me shit for any girl I bring home, ever again!"

"Since when do y' bring girls home?" Remy raised an eyebrow.

"…. It could happen."

"Wolverine, come in." Scott's voice crackled over the communicator. "Have you immobilized Sabretooth?"

"I'm occupied, kid." Logan spat into the communicator. Pietro zipped over and grabbed it from him, before running safely to the other side of the room.

"He caught Gambit and Rogue in a hotel room. Naked." He reported gleefully. "How do you feel about that, four-eyes?"

"What?" Kurt's voice cracked in, horrified.

"Everyone can hear on these things?" Pietro scoffed. "How do you ever have a private conversation? You X-People are so nosy."

"Like yer one to talk. Get out and go make fun of people somewhere else." Rogue glared at him menacingly. It was far less intimidating than her usual death glares, perhaps because she was wrapped in a sheet.

"Nope." Pietro grinned. "Your embarrassment is totally worth all the times you hit me back at the Brotherhood house."

"If ya don't wanna get hit again, ya will get the _fuck_ out of this room." She snarled, lunging to grab at his face. He slipped out of her grasp easily, smirking at her.

"If I leave, I'm just going to tell everyone what I caught you doing!" He paused. "Maybe with a few embellishments. Bet you wish you and Lance didn't take those pictures of me now, huh?"

"Ah will kill ya!" She shrieked, lunging at him again. He laughed and ran out of the room. "Oh, no. He will not get away that easily!" She ran after him.

"Doesn't she know she isn't dressed for company?" Pyro stared after her.

"No. She's too mad." Remy sighed. "She's very single-minded."

"Is she now?" Logan cracked his knuckles threateningly.

"I should take her dese clothes. She be needin' 'em." Remy collected their clothes, and began to edge out of the room.

"Oh, no, Gumbo. I think we're gonna have a little talk." Logan snarled.

"No, she definitely shouldn' be runnin' around like dat." The Cajun practically sprinted out of the room after his girlfriend.

"What just happened?" Pyro glanced at his teammate and his enemy. "I don't think I've ever been this confused. And I've been told I'm not of sound mind."

"That Cajun has a lot of explaining to do." Logan ignored the pyromaniac and stalked out of the room after the offending southerner in question.

Remy thought he might have difficulty finding his girlfriend in the smoky chaos of the hallway. He underestimated two things: how loud she was when she was angry, and how shocking it might be to others to see her clad in so very little. He found her rather easy to follow by the sounds of surprise and her occasional enraged shriek echoing down the hall.

"Pietro Maximoff, get yer scrawny ass over here right now!" He heard her shriek ahead of him. "Ah will kill ya!"

Remy rolled his eyes. That would certainly motivate the speed demon to do the exact opposite. Once he arrived in the lobby, he was grateful to see it was only his fellow mutants in the room. Of course, given the situation, perhaps a few human witnesses wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"Rogue?" Kitty grabbed her friend's arm, eyes wide. "Where are your clothes?"

"Ah lost them." The southern belle muttered vaguely, pink creeping up her cheeks again, drawing the sheets closer around herself.

"So did Gambit." The valley girl zeroed in on him as he entered the room, a mischievous grin finding its way to her lips. "You, like, weren't with us when we got here. You didn't even answer your phone calls. Are we interrupting something?"

Rogue turned to glare at Remy, as if this were his fault. He shrugged at her, unable to contain a grin. It had been her idea to keep it a secret. He was all for telling everyone. Except Logan. He needed to be kept out of the loop.

"_Nein_!" Kurt shook his head violently, abandoning his fight with the Toad. In fact, the rather unclothed appearance of the southern couple seemed to have distracted everyone from whatever their issues were- most were staring at them. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing." Rogue and Remy said in unison as Remy approached her, shrugging into his trench coat. Neither seemed aware of how absolutely ridiculous they looked.

"Told ya." Pietro appeared out of nowhere next to the blue mutant, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. Rogue narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, calm down Roguey. It's not like we didn't _all_ see this coming."

"I didn't!" Kurt snarled, jerking away from him. "You- I can't believe-"

"Oh calm down, Kurt." Kitty rolled her eyes. "Now we, like, know where she's been sneaking off to. Besides, the speedy little freak is right, everyone knew this was coming."

"And I'm not happy about it!" He exclaimed, his tail twitching agitatedly behind him. "That awful Acolyte…. My sister…."

"Everyone knew what was coming? Nothing is happening here! This is all just a… A really weird coincidence." Rogue glared at her friends, as if daring them to contradict the obvious lie.

"Yeah. 'Cause we haven't all seen this coming since you two met." Pietro rolled his eyes. "Oh, let me kidnap you and take you to New Orleans! Oh, let me specifically request to be on the team to rescue you from Apocalypse! Oh, let me drunkenly lament your hatred of me every weekend!"

"Shut up." Remy narrowed his eyes at the speed demon.

"Ya drunkenly lamented my hatred of ya?" Rogue shot him an amused grin.

"Oh, like you're one to talk!" Kitty giggled. "Like, why is he so annoying? Let's, like, go see what he's up to and follow him! I, like, totally forgive him for using me because he did it for the right reasons!"

"I knew y' didn' hate _moi_." Remy smirked at her triumphantly.

"Who wins the betting pool?" Pietro muttered to himself. "Lance said within a year of Apocalypse. When did this start? I have fifty dollars and an incriminating picture of Lance in a bikini riding on the line here!"

"_Nein_! There is no pool! There is no relationship!" Kurt shook his head violently. "Rogue, you can't hang out with this creep!"

"Ah can do whatever Ah want." She tuck out her chin defiantly. She hoped it came across as more intimidating than it felt; without clothing, she felt it was much harder to take her seriously. She was suddenly very grateful for Remy's trench coat.

"But- but- he might have… bad intentions…" Kurt stuttered, as if the thought alone were too horrifying to consider.

"Might?" Pietro snorted next to him.

Remy took the crook of her elbow in his hand, gently pulling her towards him. "Dis is fine, _mes amis_. We're jus' gon' go an' let y' finish whatever y're fightin' 'bout."

"Stop right there." Kurt narrowed his eyes at the Cajun.

Scott burst in the room, followed by Lance, Jean, and Wanda. They were still fighting, clearly unaware that gossip was far more important than whatever mission they were hoping to accomplish.

"Run for it." Remy breathed into her ear as the others were momentarily distracted by the outbreak of fighting. Without a need for a further prompt, she took off at a sprint, followed closely by the Cajun. They tore down the hallway, hoping to take the back exit and avoid any further awkward situations.

"He's totally going to defile your sister." Pietro smirked at Kurt as the couple tore away. The blue boy lunged at the speed demon and latched onto his throat.

"_Nein_!"

Neither southerner stopped at the sounds of fighting behind them.

"We can't meet in hotels anymore." Rogue hissed as they sprinted down the hallway.

"_Chere_, I don' t'ink it's really a secret anymore. We can just do normal couple t'ings. Like go t' dinner. An' when y'r friends come t' spy, we can blow somet'in' up an' run away." He replied with a grin, grabbing her arm to pull her out the back door.

Where they were promptly greeted by the very last person they wanted to see.

"Oh. Hi Logan." Rogue said stupidly after a moment. The Canadian's scowl deepened as he took them both in. Clearly, he had expected an attempted escape.

"You two. X-Jet. Now."

"Ya know, ya don't have to listen to him. He can't assign Danger Room practices." Rogue whispered as they both followed him.

"_Ouais_, disobeying de mentally unstable guy wit' metal claws in his hands is in my best interests." He rolled his eyes.

"I can hear both of you." Logan called from ahead of them, a nasty edge to his voice. "And Gumbo's right, Stripes. I don't need the Danger Room to take care of him."

"Dis is all y'r fault." Remy said cheerfully, draping an arm over her shoulder. After all, they were thoroughly screwed either way, might as well enjoy it.

"_My _fault?" She glared at him. "No. It's yers."

"No, _chere_, y' suggested poker."

"Ya picked the hotel!" She countered.

"_Mais_ y're de one dat insisted on secrecy."

"It's both of yer faults." Logan turned to glare at them. "Hey Stripes- if you paid more attention during training, you'd know this was a suspected FoH hideout. And you'd know we thought Magneto's goons were gonna attack it, and we had to come protect civilians."

"Oh." She blinked.

"So dis is entirely y'r fault." Remy smirked at her.

"Is not. Ah don't function when they tell me this kinda stuff at five in the morning." She crossed her arms irritably.

"As much as I love listening to this 'lover's' quarrel, I think it would be in yer best interests to shut up 'till I get you back to the Institute. Where we can have a nice, long chat." Logan opened the door to the X-Jet.

"We could also have dis chat in a more public place. Wit' witnesses. Lots o' witnesses." Remy offered nervously, eyeing the Canadian's extended claws.

"I don't think so, bub." Logan shoved him roughly into the plane, giving Rogue a look that told her she better follow. She did so, sitting next to her nervous boyfriend.

"If he guts me, 'M gonna haunt y' f'rever." He muttered in her ear. "More dan dat. 'M gonna haunt y' an' go t'rough y'r underwear drawer."

"He's not gonna gut ya." Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Don't count on it." Logan spat at both of them, slamming the door to the jet shut. They exchanged a nervous look.

"Ah'm thinkin' we steal the X-Jet." She offered.

"Couldn' have said it better myself." He agreed as they moved up to the controls.

"Ah am gonna have so many Danger sessions next week."


End file.
